Taking Up the Mantle
by VigoGrimborne
Summary: A dragon nest, two humans and a Night Fury, the discovery of the Queen. When something goes even more wrong, Astrid is left to escape, if she can, and to take up the burden of what she had just been shown... because Hiccup didn't make it out. How events diverge if an accident on that first trip to the nest ends Hiccup, leaving Astrid and Toothless to carry on with life.
1. Bad Luck

Pain, an impact that slammed Astrid out into the open air, a moment of weightlessness darkened by the knowledge that it would end. A screech of shock, surprise, not from her, from somewhere close above her. It was hot and the air smelled rancid, like rotting things mixed with the stench of sulfur.

* * *

_"Leaving. Let's pack up, it looks like you and me are taking a little vacation... forever."_

_His voice was resigned. Of course, he was talking to himself, as per usual. Did he really think no one noticed? It was the subject of debate among certain more suspicious circles in the village; the fact that Hiccup Haddock, the sudden star of dragon training, might be going crazy or just getting a little eccentric, or maybe receiving messages from the gods._

_Personally, Astrid was leaning towards the 'eccentric' side of the debate, though she rarely got involved in pointless speculation. No, Hiccup was weird, but not crazy._

_So she was very, very unhappy with him because he had to know he was stealing her future from her. Sure, winning dragon training didn't mean much in the long run, and no matter what she would still get to fight, to do what she was training for, but this was supposed to be her moment of glory, not his. He didn't deserve it._

_That was how she knew something was going on. He didn't deserve it, yet he was getting it somehow. He was surpassing her. That was good for him, she supposed, but if he was somehow cheating, she was finding out. Now._

_If he wasn't cheating, if he was training, actually working at it... she would figure out her response to that if it happened._

_He still hadn't seen her, despite walking right by the boulder she was sitting on. Where was the perfect trainee now? She had known for years to always be alert no matter where she was. He had let his guard down the moment he passed through that odd crack in the rock that led down into this hidden cove as if no one else could come here. _

_Foolish. She had found this place, and she had watched from atop a low rock as he entered the cove, carrying an unidentifiable bulk of leather and wearing some sort of vest. It almost looked like something one would store knives on, straps crossing his chest, but he didn't use more than one knife, so she saw no reason for him to be wearing it._

_Even now, as he set the bundle on the ground and sighed, he didn't see her, though she was sitting atop the rock in plain sight, her ax across her knees, waiting._

_She ran the whetstone she had been idly holding across the blade of her ax, the noise loud and distinct, a metallic scrape._

_"Ah!" He stumbled backward. "Uh, uh, uh, what are you doing here?" Nervous, guilty._

_Good. If he sounded guilty, he was guilty... of something. Hopefully, something that meant she could not be so easily surpassed by anyone who tried._

_That, she gave him. He was the only one who tried, cheating or not. Snotlout was too proud to learn, the twins were always tripping each other up in one way or another, and Fishlegs only cared about surviving. Hiccup, though... she didn't know what his motivation was aside from the obvious, but he tried._

_"I wanna know what's going on." She used the hilt of her ax to push herself up, hoping the sight of her weapon would unnerve him further. He had to know she could and would use it if provoked. "No one just gets as good as you do. Especially you." As she spoke she walked forward, forcing him back. "Start talking."_

_"Uh, uh-" Hiccup was stuttering. She had no patience for that._

_"Are you training with someone?" The most honorable possibility. She wasn't sure if she wanted the truth to be an honorable story, but that was the first thing that came to mind._

_"I, uh, training?" He kept backing up._

_So, it wasn't that. Good. "It better not involve this." She grabbed the odd leather armor he was wearing by his collarbone, lifting him slightly._

_Gods, he was so light! How in the world had he managed to beat her? She could lift him with one arm! She was sure he could not say the same of her._

_"I know, this looks really bad, but you see this is, uh-"_

_A noise to the side. Her training kicked in, and Hiccup's voice became nothing more than an annoyance, one she ignored. Something was nearby. Close, very close._

_Or maybe she was imagining it. But that had sounded like a-_

_"You're right, you're right, I- I'm through with the lies," Hiccup continued, catching up to her as she approached the bushes and shadows the sound seemed to have come from. "I've been making... outfits. So, you got me."_

_A hand on her shoulder. He was distracting her. He should know better than that._

_"So, you got me, It's time everybody knew. Drag me back, here we go," he continued, grabbing her hand and putting it to his stupid vest. He was hindering her._

_She abruptly tightened her grip, wrenched his hand back and forced him to the ground, all the while keeping half her attention on their immediate surroundings. She needed him out of the way until she was sure there was nothing worse than a blustering runt to deal with in this cove._

_"Aaaauuggghhh! Why would you do that?!" Hiccup moaned._

_"That's for the lies," she asserted, feeling vindictive. They were probably alone, because if there was a wild animal around it would have done something by now. That meant she could deal with Hiccup without distraction. She dropped the hilt of her ax, bouncing it off of his lower stomach, eliciting a yelp. "And that's for everything else." For taking her glory, for lying about it, and for just being frustrating._

_Then she heard a low growl. They were definitely not alone. She looked up towards the sound..._

_To see a sleek black dragon, spitting mad, and coming their way._

_Training as strong as instinct took over, and she knocked Hiccup out of the way, entirely ignoring his feeble objection. "Get down!"_

_Then she thought better of that, pulling out her ax and facing the beast. "Run!" She could hold it off if she wasn't defending dead weight, and he had no weapon that she could see, so that was all he'd be._

_"Run!" she repeated after noticing that he hadn't moved, staring with a strangely resigned expression._

_The dragon pounced, leaping forward, and she readied her ax-_

_"No!" Hiccup rushed between them, holding a hand out at her, and suicidally doing the same to the dragon that was about to kill him. "No. It's okay..."_

_The dragon pulled up short, skidding a little in the sand to avoid running Hiccup down._

_"She's a friend," he finished, speaking as if it knew what he meant. The black beast looked from Hiccup to Astrid and back again._

_"You just scared him," Hiccup said, now speaking to her._

_"I scared him?" she asked, incredulous. This whole scene was impossible, and ridiculous besides. But she was getting a very bad feeling about how it was happening. "Who is him?"_

_Hiccup shrugged uncomfortably. "Astrid, Toothless." He looked to the dragon, who was still just watching with angry eyes. "Toothless, Astrid."_

_Introductions. A ridiculously inaccurate name for one of their greatest enemies. She stared at him._

_Then she bolted, running straight for the slit in the boulders that would let her out of this cove. Someone needed to know what was going on. This was bigger than cheating, bigger than who won dragon training. This might actually be treason._

_A dragon that obeyed Hiccup's beck and call. It sounded utterly ridiculous, but she knew it was reality. Somehow. How?_

_It didn't matter. Someone else could deal with it. She just had to make it back to the village, and Hiccup was no runner, so she was safely away-_

_A dark shadow passed over the trees in front of her, one that was startlingly fast. She almost pulled up short, only at the last second weaving to avoid any strafing. There was none, but it was a good response. Because that black dragon was chasing her, and it could definitely fly faster than she could ever hope to run._

_Hiccup had sent his dragon after her. To kill? Definitely to kill. That was all dragons did._

_She continued to weave, making sure to run in the thickest parts of the forest. Tree cover would keep her from being hit directly if the beast decided to start firing. She didn't know why it had yet to do that, but it was going to at some point._

_How far from Berk was she? At least another ten minutes at this speed. There was no way she was going to make it._

_She leaped a fallen tree, wondering where the shadow of her pursuer had gone-_

_Only to feel claws gripping her shoulder through her pauldrons as she continued to move forward and up, picked off at the height of her leap. She dropped her ax in shock, a terrible mistake she instantly regretted._

_Astrid screamed, long and loud, because this was the end. It was going to drop her or tear her apart, and there was nothing she could do. "Oh, great Odin's ghost, this is it!"_

_Higher and higher, and then it came. She screamed again as she fell, dropped to her death-_

_But there was a tree under her. She desperately latched onto the branch she had been dropped on, gripping with all her strength as the tree leaned and shifted, the wood groaning under her weight. It held, if barely._

_She glanced up at the black dragon, wondering why it was playing with her before killing her-_

_And saw Hiccup on its back, staring at her. Not angrily, almost pleadingly._

* * *

Astrid caught a glimpse of the one who had doomed them, her mind working to slow down these final seconds. It was purple and green, a Zippleback fleeing in terror. It had crashed into them in its frenzy, blindsiding Hiccup's dragon as it tried to get them out of the volcano. Throwing both passengers off and leaving the Night Fury without an operator for half its tail.

* * *

_The dragon, at Hiccup's prompting, landed near where she dangled, putting even more weight on the branch. It would not hold for long._

_"Hiccup, get me down from here!" she half-ordered and half-pleaded, hating the fear in her voice even as she frantically tried to figure out how to survive a fall from this height. Any way down was better than that, but of course, he wouldn't just take her down. _

_"You have to give me a chance to explain," he called down, his voice desperate._

_So he still thought he could just explain away all of this? Well, with a dragon at his beck and call, as it seemed... maybe he could. If he had the right reasons..._

_No. "I am not listening to anything you have to say!" she shouted defiantly. He would not convince her of anything._

_"Then I won't speak," he retorted. "Just let me show you. Please, Astrid." He offered her his hand._

_To be brought into the saddle, instead of carried... to not fall to her death. That choice was obvious, and if he was so desperate to explain, she could get him to bring her back to the ground. Anything to not be dangling from this tree._

_She pulled herself into the saddle, studiously not thinking about what she was sitting on, or who she was sitting so close behind. It was a good thing nobody important could see this. _

_"Now get me down," she ordered._

_"Toothless, down. Gently," Hiccup commanded, though his voice lacked any sort of force beyond what she would expect to hear in a polite request from anyone else._

_The dragon spread its wings obligingly, and the wind began to lighten its weight, the branch beneath it slowly coming back to its normal shape as the pressure was lifted. In moments they were hovering over the tree, unattached to the world._

_"See? Nothing to be afraid of."_

_With that, the dragon exploded into motion, launching them straight up, gaining speed at a tremendous pace. Astrid leaned forward and grabbed onto Hiccup, utterly terrified of falling off. She was screaming in his ear, but at the moment the only thing passing through her mind was pure fear, so it wasn't intentional revenge so much as a coincidence. They went up and up, not slowing, actually gaining speed as they moved, leaving the world behind._

_"Toothless!" Hiccup shouted. "What is wrong with you?! Bad dragon!" He half-turned in the saddle to look at Astrid, far calmer than anyone strapped to an insane flying reptile had any right to be, looking more embarrassed than anything. "He's not usually like this."_

_If she could, she would have laughed at that, but at the moment that was the furthest thing from her mind._

_"Oh no," Hiccup continued, looking utterly annoyed. What? The climb was just leveling out, and she felt strangely weightless..._

_And then they were dropping like a stone towards the unforgiving ocean below. She couldn't breathe very well, but what air she did pull in went to screaming._

_The dragon continued to plummet until just above the surface, flinging itself and its passengers through the froth, soaking them both. Astrid stopped screaming, preoccupied with not choking on the cold water being thrown in her face, though Hiccup's body in front of her blocked most of it._

_"Toothless, what are you doing?!" Hiccup demanded as they headed back up just as quickly as before. "We need her to like us!"_

_Then the dragon tilted, moving in a new way that Astrid did not like at all._

_"And now the spinning," Hiccup deadpanned, still impossibly not afraid. "Thank you for nothing, you useless reptile."_

_Astrid covered her eyes, unable to take the sight of the world turning in every direction. The feeling was far more than enough to make her sick._

_It was too much. She gave up her last shred of dignity. "Okay, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Just get me off of this thing!" At this point, she might have preferred it to just drop her and be done with it!_

* * *

Astrid twisted in the air, looking down. She refused to die with her back to fate. The Night Fury was beside her, also falling, and Hiccup...

Far below. He had been struck directly, flung down as opposed to sideways. His eyes were closed, his head streaming blood from a cut, his body limp.

* * *

Below him, below all three of them, was nothing but yellow fog and the smell of sulfur. But Astrid knew what had to be down there, what had streamed off of the monstrosity that lived here, molten rock, the blood of the world. There would be no surviving this.

_Hiccup did not respond to her plea for mercy. The dragon did, leveling off so quickly she almost didn't notice, and then heading up at a far more relaxed pace, slowing and flying steadily beneath the massive clouds lining the sky as the sun set._

_They flew like that for a few minutes, getting closer and closer to the clouds. The dragon beneath her was flying so smoothly it felt like she was motionless, the wind moving her hair of its own accord._

_They got so close to the clouds that she could touch them. She did, wondering what it would feel like. Would they be solid, or coarse like wool?_

_No, they were just like mist, insubstantial and vaguely wet. She smiled wonderingly. This was as amazing as the rest of the flight had been terrifying._

_It was still terrible... but she could deal with all of that later. For now, Hiccup wanted to convince her, and as long as he thought he stood a chance, she could safely enjoy being somewhere no Viking could ever go. She had not wanted to be here so it was not treason, and this might be her only chance._

_So she said nothing, letting the moments linger and pass. The sun disappeared below the horizon and the dragon took them up and through the clouds, leveling out again just above them as night fell upon the world. Through a break in those clouds, she could see lights._

_Berk, far below, looking small yet strong, even from this far up. Another sight nobody had ever seen before-_

_Nobody but Hiccup. This was his place. He was the explorer; she the passenger. The dragon was his noble steed._

_Not noble; dragons were not noble, and not faithful, because it had totally ignored his frustration in that terrifying flight, but it was his steed nonetheless. She did not understand how or why, but she understood the result._

_"Alright, I admit it," she said quietly, "this is pretty cool. It's... amazing."_

_Her thoughts turned back to the dragon. What had Hiccup done? Dragons were enemies, but somehow this one was not anymore. It was calm, now at least, and seemed content to fly with them on its back..._

_If it could fly without Hiccup. She recalled the glimpses she had gotten of its saddle, and the odd contraption Hiccup worked with his foot. Of the asymmetrically-colored tail._

_It was a cripple, and Hiccup was the only way it could regain the sky. Maybe that was it. That didn't feel like the whole answer, but it was probably part of it._

_"He's amazing," she realized, tentatively touching the dragon's side with her hand. Amazingly different. Would it be like this with any other dragon, or was this one unique? She didn't know. Later. Questions like that could be asked later._

_They turned from Berk, flying out over the sea._

_Some questions could be asked later, but one, in particular, was beginning to bother her. Hiccup worked with this dragon, and at some point, he had to have had the chance to kill it. If it was worth more to him alive than dead..._

_He had never even struck a dragon in the arena that she could remember. Oh, she had always assumed that was what had happened when she rounded a corner and saw her target sprawled out and mostly unconscious, but she had never seen it._

_He didn't hurt them. She did not pretend to understand why. That was another question she could ask later. But... "What now?"_

_Hiccup sighed, somehow catching her meaning. Then again, his victory in dragon training was probably fresh on his mind. His view on what was and was not possible had not been shattered in the last hour._

_"Hiccup," she continued, "your final exam is tomorrow. You know you're going to have to kill a..."_

_Actually, she probably shouldn't be so loud about that while on the back of a dragon. She lowered her voice. "Kill a dragon."_

_"Don't remind me," Hiccup groaned._

_She felt a flash of frustration. What, did he think he was going to avoid it somehow? But before she could continue on that line of conversation, a strange sound began to grow in the distance, as if it was approaching. She realized with a flash of fear that they were far from Berk, out over the ocean. She didn't know where they were._

_The dragon's ear plates rose, and it looked around, appearing panicked. It dipped beneath the top of the clouds, hiding the world from sight... or hiding from something._

_A Night Fury was hiding from something. Astrid felt a strong flash of fear at that realization._

_"Toothless, what's happening?" Hiccup asked, far too loudly in Astrid's opinion. "What is it?"_

_The dragon barked at him as if to tell him to be quiet. Silence descended upon the three of them, making the oddly chaotic hissing sound surrounding them the only thing Astrid heard. What was it?_

_Then a familiar silhouette was faintly visible to the right. Hiccup noticed it first, only moments before to became entirely visible. "Get down," he hissed at Astrid, hunching over in the saddle. She followed suit. The Nightmare drifted closer, becoming more visible._

_Another dragon appeared out of the mist on the other side, boxing their dragon in. A Zippleback, with something large and limp in its clutches._

_"What's going on?" she asked, whispering furtively._

_"I don't know," he replied. "Toothless, you've got to get us out of here."_

_His dragon hissed at him. The clouds began to thin-_

_Astrid held in a gasp of utter fear as it became clear they were surrounded by scores, maybe even hundreds of dragons. That was the noise; the constant tumult of hissing and growling as dragons jockeyed for a position in the massive flock. It was a terrifying scene, and they were stuck in the middle of it._

* * *

The one responsible for all of this, the monster that was apparently the root cause of the entire war, wasn't even visible now. It had eaten another dragon and receded into the sickly yellow fog. That did not help. They were going to die without its interference anyway.

In the seconds they spent plummeting down, Astrid tried to make peace with the fact that she was going to die here. It was a warrior's death, and at the nest no less. That would offer her a place in Valhalla as long as she faced it without fear.

* * *

_As they flew, trapped in the middle of a horde of dragons, Astrid nervously looked around. All of the common species were present, and most carried some sort of animal. Sheep, cows, large Tuna, smaller fish of other varieties..._

_Hiccup understood what that meant. "It looks like they're... hauling in their kill."_

_"What does that make us?" she asked even more nervously. How under control was the Night Fury beneath them?_

_Before Hiccup could answer, if he even had an answer to give, The dragons all banked and dove in formation, plummeting through the thickening fog and weaving between towering, craggy sea stacks. They emerge at the base of a massive volcanic caldera glowing with rivulets of lava. _

_The flock of dragons fell into rank, funneling through a crack in the side of the caldera, all headed to whatever lay on the other side. Astrid instinctively ducked a little further down as the dragon carrying her and Hiccup passed through the crack in turn. A moment of nightmarish darkness passed all too slowly as they zipping through an oddly straight tunnel. Eventually, the claustrophobic passageway gave way to a vast, steamy inner chamber, tiered with pocky shelves. Dragons of all breeds lay about, nested in hordes. The further down Astrid looked, the less occupied the ledges were, and at a certain point, the yellow sulfuric fog obscured her view of anything further, a deeper red color tinging the fog directly below them._

_Then, even as she looked, something fell into the center of that fog. A dead sheep, by the looks. Then a tuna._

_She looked up and noticed that all of the dragons were taking turns dropping their food into the pit. What was the point in that?_

_"What my dad wouldn't give to find this," Hiccup murmured._

_The Night Fury veered away from the other dragons long before it became time for it to drop its own cargo, much to Astrid's relief, landing on a mostly-obscured ledge. It was hiding again, though this time she felt that it was hiding Hiccup more than itself._

_Not her. Did it care about her? Of course not, Hiccup was its master. She was just... whatever it saw other humans as. She really didn't know. Honestly, for all she knew there was a chance it would follow anyone's orders through some quirk of its nature, and Hiccup had just been the first one to notice that. That was very unlikely, but she couldn't rule it out._

_Later. Now was not the time to think of whether the one definitely friendly dragon would listen to her. Now was the time to worry about all the less friendly dragons._

_And, apparently, to worry about the stupidity of said dragons. Hiccup was leaning forward in the saddle, watching the pointless waste of food continue. "It's satisfying to know that all of our food has been dumped down a hole," he remarked sarcastically._

_"They're not eating any of it," she observed. If they didn't eat what they stole, what did they eat? And why steal in the first place?_

_As she tried to remember if she had ever seen any dragon actually eat anything, the procession wound down, the last few dragons dropping their offering. Last in line was a fat and sluggish Gronckle, which did not seem to be carrying anything. It bumbled out over the center of the pit and proceeded to open its mouth and drop a single, pathetic scrap of fish. It scratched itself and turned to go, apparently satisfied with that._

_Then, with absolutely no warning, the volcano erupted. Or at least that was what Astrid thought for a split second before seeing and understanding the far more terrifying truth. A dragon covered in lava had lurched up from the obscured depths, snagging and swallowing the delinquent Gronckle whole without a second thought._

_"What is that?" she whispered, terrified for what felt like the tenth time tonight. This thing was far worse than any guess she had ever heard as to what resided at the Nest. It was not in the book of dragons. Bork the Bold would have sworn off of investigating dragons forever if he had ever seen this._

_The monstrosity turned, its massive nostrils dilated, its beady eyes searching. Then it saw them._

_A tremendous roar shook the volcano, and dragon rose in flight, swarming in their haste to leave. It had seen them, and it was not happy, to the point where the other dragons wanted no part in its anger._

_"Alright buddy, we gotta get out of here," Hiccup remarked hurriedly even as the Night Fury spread its wings and the monstrously large dragon leaned closer to their ledge. "Now!"_

* * *

A sharp pain in her arm, jerking upward and tearing at her, latching onto her bone. Astrid screamed as much through shock as pain, looking back, time still feeling sluggish and slow. They had not yet passed through the yellowish fog that meant sure death.

The Night Fury's claws dug into and through her arm, a grip that tortured her in this final moment. It had grabbed her.

But it was not looking at her, not even as its wings flared, as their fall slowed and turned into a dive in a slanted direction towards the walls of the hollow mountain. It was not looking at her.

She turned back to follow its line of sight. There was Hiccup, out of reach and even now disappearing into the fog.

They could not get to him, not even if the goal was simply to grab him before all three of them plunged into lava or smashed into unforgiving stone. It was so very impossible that she knew it instinctively. There was no saving him.

His eyes still closed, Hiccup disappeared into the fog below.

Her arm was in agony, but Astrid grabbed at the paws torturing her with her other hand, holding on as the Night Fury dove for the wall, for the ledges and caves that dotted it. They might get out-

Impact, the air driven from her as she hit and rolled, slamming to a stop against stone. Pain, so much of it. Had she thought training and taking bruises from sparring partners hurt? This was the real thing, and she knew better now.

But it was over for the moment. She let her eyes close, trying to just calm down. Death avoided for the moment.

For herself, anyway. Hiccup had gotten unlucky. He was gone, without a shadow of a doubt. There would be no miraculous survival, no near-miss such as hers. He was dead.

Her arm throbbed and her head spun, but Astrid sat up anyway, forcing herself to quickly assess if there was anything she needed to do _now_. Now, because she was pretty sure once the adrenaline wore off she would be out of it for a while. Enough stories of warriors fainting after the battle was over gave her a reason to suspect that would be the case here.

Her arm. She brought it up into view to assess the damage, having to use her good hand to pull it up.

It was bad, so bad. Torn to shreds, dripping blood. She could see a little bone in some places, and the pain was curiously dull and distant now. She pulled off her tunic and tied a tourniquet around her upper arm, hopefully keeping the rest of her blood inside her. It hurt, in a distant way.

Anything else? She glanced down at herself, but aside from a multitude of cuts and bruises, there were no other injuries. That, at least, was going her way.

Next, she needed to take stock of her location. A ledge, one with a few caves off to the side, facing out into the terrible hollow mountain. That monster was down there somewhere, down in the yellow sulphuric mist and smog. At the moment there were no dragons, but they might return.

Her mind was slowly derailed by the depth of the pit in front of her, her careful, practical analysis of the situation fading as she stared.

Hiccup was gone. That could have been her. Might still be her, in some way very soon.

But he was gone, leaving her to figure out everything on her own. Her and...

She looked back, fully registering the black, bleeding mass over to her right, slumped against the wall. The Night Fury. If it was even still alive.

One question slowly materialized as her vision darkened. She had just enough presence of mind to lay down before the dizziness hit, her mind fading.

Why had it saved her?

_**Author's Note: **_**This story was not an easy one to write. Not because of angst; I'm okay at that, and there's actually not much to be found here. Astrid, or at least this Astrid, torn from canon at this time, is not one to mourn all that much, and we're only going to get her perspective.**

**The plot was also not a difficult one; it flowed and changed as I wrote, improving itself almost spontaneously. The hardest part was actually Astrid. I'm not sure how good I am at writing her character. There's just something about her that I find difficult to write. Not impossible, and it's doubly satisfying when I get it right, just difficult.**

**Also, a more general note. I have, as with all of my stories, written this entire thing already. It's done. So there will be no abandoning it, no adding to the sad collection of 'promising but perpetually unfinished' stories on this site. I hate that, more than almost anything. So don't worry, come Hell or high water this story will update regularly (which is also why I held off beginning it until I was back in a place where I can once again post reliably). I am still entirely open to editing or correcting things, though.**

**On the subject of guest reviews… I try to respond to those down here, but if it's just a 'great story' take this as my blanket 'thanks!' for all such reviews. I only respond to guest reviewers, or normal reviewers, if I have something to say. (And really, I'd greatly prefer people to have accounts, as I can actually hold a conversation that way, instead of shouting into the void).**

**On a more meta note that might interest some of you, I actually wrote the flashback scenes with the aid of a copy of the script I have for some reason saved as a text file. It's the 2010 final edition… and still contains a few lines of dialogue that didn't make the final cut, apparently. Such as a few 'Hiccup introduces his neighbors' lines from the opening spiel. I can't be sure that's actually legit though, simply because I have no memory of where or when I found it and apparently copied it to a text file.**


	2. Dire Straits

A dull thrumming invaded Astrid's senses, forcing her back to consciousness. What was that? It was as much felt as heard, throbbing in time with the pain throughout her arm. Ominous, dangerous. A horrible, resonant drumming that sounded like...

Breathing. The monster, that horribly large dragon, was asleep, and snoring. There was no other explanation for a sound like that.

Astrid struggled to her feet, holding her ruined arm to her chest with her other arm, the dry blood flaking off against her bare stomach.

Bare. Right, she had used her tunic to stop the bleeding. At least she wasn't totally uncovered. As it was, she was probably going to need blood more than modesty anyway.

The interior of the volcano had the same dull, glowing atmosphere as before, and was still devoid of normal dragons. Astrid looked to the side, noting that the black mass that had been Hiccup's dragon was no longer propped against the wall where it had fallen, now slumped a few feet away, though it looked no more alert than before. It was not dead, then.

She didn't care. The Night Fury was irrelevant, Hiccup's pet in a time of utter necessity. She couldn't use it, so it was worthless. Her mind went to other things.

How did it go? Her father had been in charge of teaching her to survive shipwrecks and strandings, but that had been a while ago. She recalled his voice with some difficulty, dredging up his instructions.

_'First, you need to be sure you'll live to see the next day. Are you bleeding? Try and stop that. Then look for food, water, shelter, and most importantly for danger. You need to know the situation to survive it. The unknown kills fast.'_

She could do that. What was the situation?

She sat down on an outcropping, staring into the abyss over the ledge. "My situation..."

This was the first real emergency she had ever been in, the first one she had faced alone. Talking to herself made her feel more confident.

"I'm stuck at the nest. There are no other survivors, and no one knows where I am, or could get to me if they did."

She forced down a surge of hopelessness that followed that recap. She would survive. That just meant she needed to get off this island on her own power, not wait for rescue.

The specifics of being trapped in a place no Viking ever saw meant a lot of her father's teachings about smoke signals and signalling ships went out the window. His teachings on making a raft, on the other hand, might hold some water. Not here on this ledge, but she had seen a shore of some kind on the way in.

She looked around. "I'm stuck on a ledge inside a volcano, deep inside. There are caves, but I don't know where they go, and their inhabitants could return at any time. Once the dragons come back, I'm dead. I need to find a place to hide, or to get off of this island before then."

There was no other option. She turned her back on the depths that hid a veritable demon, almost glad to have no choice, to only have one option. There was no reason to doubt her decision if it was the only one she could make.

The caves quickly grew dark, but Astrid continued anyway, feeling her way along the walls, though she cut her hand in the process, the sharp edges of stone lining the wall sudden and unexpected. Her shoulder hurt, and her bad arm, the left one, was throbbing like nothing else, sapping what little strength she had.

It was almost irrelevant that she didn't have her ax or even a knife right now. She wouldn't be able to use it or even carry it very well, her good hand needed to keep her bearings in here, in the black that made her stumble, the darkness of the mountain.

She was relieved to find that the tunnel she had been forced to go down was straight and gently sloping, a smooth descent. Almost unnaturally so. Were there dragons that dug through solid stone? Whispering Deaths, if she recalled correctly. Even newly hatched ones could shoot spines. Kill on sight.

At the moment, that last instruction was a laughable fantasy. If she and a dragon saw each other, she wouldn't be the one killing on sight, it would.

With that in mind, she moved slowly out into the dull light of day, the grey lack of darkness the only thing informing her that it was day at all. There was smoke and fog in the air, intermingling and diluting the sun, and giving the nest a gloomy, otherworldly atmosphere.

She stood on a ledge, one with a curious protrusion of rock near the cave entrance, a few dozen feet above a gravelly beach devoid of life of any kind.

"Shouldn't be hard to find my way back," she muttered, looking at the protrusion. Not that she would want to go back. The only thing there was Hiccup's dragon, and it was of no use to her. It listened to Hiccup, not her, and he was dead. Whatever tricks he had used to get it to follow orders, however imperfectly, were unknown to Astrid.

She had already ruled out leaving the way she had come. There was no way she was going to get that beast up and moving in the air without crashing, and one more impact would probably kill her or it. Trying that would be a waste of time.

So, a raft, a boat of some sort. She needed wood and a binding material, rope or cordage. Surely there was some sort of plant living here. She didn't see any water, but It was warm to the point that she didn't mind being topless for the time being. Some plants might be able to thrive somewhere around here.

She shifted her makeshift tourniquet and sling, wincing as her arm protested. She was no longer bleeding, but open wounds were bad, and her skirt was not of the material to make bandages, armored and stiff.

_'Infection will kill you. Clean your injuries, no matter how much it hurts.'_

Astrid slowly and carefully clambered down a jumble of dark boulders to reach the shore, dreading what was to come. She had no medicine and no alcohol, both of which would have worked, so her only alternative was sea water. It was that or risk infection, fever, and eventually death.

So many ways to die here, and she had to counter as many as possible.

The gravel, upon closer inspection, was not all rock. There were shells too, thousands of them, small ones from something that lived in the sea. She wasn't an expert on fish, so she knew no more than that. Everything was covered in black ash, which gave the beach its monotone color.

That same ash was rubbing off on her boots, but that didn't matter. She made it to the place where the ocean lapped at the stones, the small strip of gravelly land that was clean due to the tide wiping the ash away. The water was murky, dark and ominous.

She began to doubt whether this was a good idea. Clean ocean water might be good for wounds, but wasn't the point to clean her injuries? This water was full of ash, dirt, and silt.

No. She wasn't going to risk it. Her father's advice was good, just not in this specific instance. Thinking for herself was important too.

Well, that at least meant she wouldn't need to endure the agony immersing such terrible injuries in the sea would cause... but it also meant she had no way to clean out her wounds. She unraveled the sling a bit, forcing herself to dispassionately observe how much damage there was.

Astrid could barely move her arm on her own power, the pain excruciating whenever she tried. There were five deep gashes, four on the top of her arm and one on the bottom, some just barely missing the veins by her wrist. Each gash had carved into her like a blunt ax, and there was just a bit of white visible at the bottom of the two central gashes on the top of her arm.

Five claws, immense force, and sharp edges. She was just lucky the injuries weren't immediately fatal. As things were, she really didn't know how much was unfixable. It wasn't quite as bad as she had originally thought. She probably wouldn't lose the arm if she survived this.

For sure though, nothing could be done here. She did not even have any clean water to drink, let alone to treat herself with even if she had the requisite knowledge, which she did not. Her mother had promised to teach her in a few weeks, after training was officially over. She might not make it back for that...

Astrid gritted her teeth and put the makeshift sling back together, wrapping her tunic around her arm once more. She was not going to die here.

Not here, not now. She had seen the nest, knew what was here, and might even be able to get back here if the fog was the only reason no one ever made it. She had valuable information...

Such valuable information, some stranger than the rest. That Hiccup had somehow tamed a Night Fury, for that was what it was. That was going to be a long explanation, and Stoick was not going to take it well. But Hiccup was dead, and Astrid did not plan to lie. She could deal with Stoick's anger if it meant she was safe from anything worse.

Like this place. The nest definitely counted as worse than her Chief's anger. The silence was so total that she could hear her heartbeat over the slow waves. Every step along the tideline sounded like someone was dropping a rock onto the shore, her feet falling heavily. She was feeling thirsty now, but there was no sign of water. No sign of dragons either, which was a relief. They could be back at any time, but for the moment she was alone here.

So alone.

But that was good. She would rather _not_ have anyone see her like this, if at all possible. Bruised, her arm in a sling, and bare from the waist up. Yes, it seemed there was one upside to Hiccup not making it.

She forced that thought out of her head immediately, hating herself for thinking that. It was not good to be glad he was gone, no matter how infuriating he had been at times.

Had been. Would not be any longer. Maybe that hadn't really sunken in yet, but Astrid did not expect to by crying over his death any time soon. He had shown her a different side of himself, but it was hard for the last hour of his life to overwrite the annoying, inexplicably successful last few months, or the years of cleaning up the messes he made before that. Maybe, with time...

But they would not have time, so there was no reason to dwell on that. He had gotten her into this mess anyway. Him and his dragon.

She continued to walk along the shore, seeing nothing but the occasional piece of old, slimy driftwood, most of it far too small to be useful. Her arm hurt, and her shoulder felt odd aside from that. Had she dislocated it? Maybe. But she couldn't fix that on her own, not right now.

Time passed, though Astrid did not really notice, walking, always walking. The thirst she felt grew, as did a distinct hollowness in her stomach, but the terrain did not change. It was as if she had gone nowhere, save for the lack of that distinctive rock formation that marked where she had started.

No trees, greenery, food, or water of any kind save for seawater. Drinking that would kill her quicker than not drinking anything.

_'The first day you thirst. By the second you feel hot, and your skin and mouth are dry. Fever sets in. Then you die. Three days usually, and the last you'll be too out of it to do anything.'_

Her father's words on dehydration rung like a bell in her head as she came to the conclusion that there was no drinkable water here, on this entire island. Two days, really. She had two days, and the first was probably at least half over even now, with how long she had walked. It was impossible to tell with the smoke and fog intermingling in the air and aggravating her dry throat and mouth.

So... at the very least, she didn't have to worry about food, or infection, or sickness. Lack of water would kill her before any of those came close.

Time to stop wasting time. She bent over, feeling weak, and picked up a staff-sized branch, hefting it awkwardly. Just... a couple hundred of these...

"Great."

She coughed, resolving not to talk to herself any more. Speaking was not fun when her mouth and throat were already so dry. Not like anyone could hear her anyway.

But the fact remained that she needed to assemble a raft and get off this forsaken island... now, basically. As soon as possible, before nightfall.

All she had was scattered driftwood. Not even some creeping plants or thorn vines to tie into cordage as a replacement for rope. She had nothing but wood.

Regardless of that particular difficulty, she collected the wood anyway, spending what felt like hours walking back and forth from where she had decided to work, a random stretch of shore marked by a stick driven upright into the gravel. Her head hurt, and her arm was pained at every jolt, but there was nothing else to do as long as she did not consider lying down and waiting to die as an option.

Never that. So, she worked, assembling the basic outline of a raft by lining the planks and sticks up. Their origin varied immensely, from natural branches to planks from wrecks to unidentifiable driftwood so old it was smooth. It was mismatched, but she was fine with that. This was a work of necessity, not something to be proud of in any way except that it might save her life.

As if. She eventually faced the reality of her plight as the diffused light began to fade. There was no way to hold this raft together. Not a single vine, rope, or cord anywhere along the beach.

She sat down, resting for a moment. This was as far as she could get without something to tie this stuff with. Something to tie...

Her mind swam, already beginning to slow down thanks to thirst, pain, and fatigue, but she still latched onto the idea that had struck. She had nothing to tie with, nothing to wind into ropes... except what she had on her.

The shells she had noticed earlier leaped into mind, and she stumbled to her feet, quickly and clumsily locating one. Her hands felt swollen and dry. Another symptom of dehydration, probably. She didn't bother testing the edge of the shell, knowing it was sharp just by looking at it.

Then her progress was stymied once again. She only had one good arm, and to cut her own hair, she needed it taut, or at least pressed against something. That wasn't going to be easy, because her good hand had to wield the shell.

First, she tried tilting her head and catching the end of her braid in her armpit, wincing at the pain in her shoulder. Yes, something was wrong there too. That needed to be ignored.

Regardless, it was too awkward an angle to get a strong enough push. Now what?

She thought about it for a while, muddling through her fatigue and discomfort. Then she made her way back to the rocks, to the jumbled boulders that rested at the beginning of the mountainous volcano, and laid back on one of the flat rocks, putting the shell down and pulling her braid taut.

Then she picked up the shell, placing the sharp edge right at the place where her braid met the rock itself, right at the base.

There was no hesitation, though she hadn't cut her hair in years, growing it long enough to braid. This was about survival. She pushed down, roughly parting hairs between the smooth rock and edge of the shell, feeling and ignoring the tugging at her scalp.

Once she was pretty sure she was done, she remained there for a few minutes, staring up into the fog and smoke without really seeing, in a stupor. Lying down was good.

Time. She was running out of time, but she was tired and thirsty. Her will to go on was not fading, but the capability of her body to obey that will definitely was.

Was she going to make it? If this was it, if she got a working raft within the hour, an extremely unlikely proposal, how was she going to steer? Where would she go? She knew what direction Berk was from here, South, but it was so far away.

It didn't have to be Berk. Anywhere with drinking water would give her much more time to think, to plan, to act. As of now, she needed water most of all.

But... even taking her braid apart and tying thin ropes, the thinnest she could rely on, she might not have enough makeshift cord to secure the raft. There were so many ways she could fail, and at the end of her path of action lay only a chance of drifting somewhere before she was too far gone to help herself. No chance, really.

Still, she was not going to give up. If she drowned or died of thirst on the raft, so be it. She would not die here waiting for failure to come and doom her.

She opened her eyes. Had they been closed? They must have drifted shut. It was totally dark save for two yellow suns, curiously lacking the normal glow that lit the world. What...

It took her far too long to understand what she was looking at, in her dehydrated state. Eyes. Yellow eyes, staring at her from above. Close above.

She didn't dare move. It had not struck yet, and dragons were not eaters of carrion, usually, which was probably part of why they raided. If that monstrosity didn't eat carrion either, they needed fresh prey, which could only be acquired in large amounts from herds, like those Berk kept.

Ironic, that she understood so much when it was extremely unlikely she would ever get to pass on the information.

The eyes did not blink, staring down at her. She felt exposed, no weapon and no defense available.

What had she thought earlier? Something about how if she and a dragon met, it would be the one killing on sight?

A blink. Then the eyes were joined by another pair, identical in size, shape, and color. That, coupled with the size, meant this was probably a Zippleback.

It was amazing what a little adrenaline and fear for her life could do in waking her mind up, forcing aside the pain, dullness, and thirst to focus on surviving the next few moments. Not that she could actually do anything. Playing dead worked every once in a while on Berk, though she had never been in the situation to need or want to try it herself. Maybe...

A huff, hot air she felt from so close, and the heads receded, chattering and hissing to itself as it left. It had judged her uninteresting, inedible, or just too small to bother eating. Astrid didn't care what that one particular dragon thought; she took its appearance as a warning. The dragons were back. Or just this one was. After listening carefully for a while, she sat up, her head feeling oddly light-

Her braid. She grabbed it, tucking the severed part of her past under her bad arm, as she was already holding that to herself. Then she sat up, quickly looking around.

It was night, but her vision was adjusting, and there was no sign of dragons around, though she could hear them now, an ambient hissing and rumbling. It came from inside the volcano, just like the horrible thrumming that came from the monstrosity that led them. Out here seemed safe enough, though that could change in an instant.

She stumbled forward, her legs now feeling weak, and made her way back to the raft, or at least what would with immense luck become a raft. She sat there, her head aching and her eyes heavy, and took out the severed braid from under her arm, taking out the bands that tied it. Those were great, three small strips of leather, some of which had been hidden in her hair. She could work them together into a strip long enough to hold half of the raft together in one place. At best, given what she had, how was this going to work?

She stared at the vaguely rectangular raft, her mind working slowly. Building things was not her strong point.

Eventually, she decided on four long cords and two small. The raft would be separated into two rough square shapes, two cords binding each square, and the small ones connecting them in the middle. It would be less strain on each individual cord, and shorter cords meant less chance any would break due to a flaw in how they were made.

The leather strips were already perfect to make up the two small cords. She set those aside, focusing on the hair.

Weaving hair into cordage with one hand turned out to be surprisingly difficult. Her braid had to be unwound to do anything with it. Once she had succeeded in that, she took a section of the blond hair, her blond hair, and awkwardly began twisting it, very slowly turning one braid into several thin cords, painstakingly twisting each small section. She knew how to do this, having done it with less... personal... material, but it was hard. So hard, with her throat as dry as hot sand and her head heavy. Only the ever-present background noise of death with wings and fire literally within hearing distance kept her alert.

By the time she had finished with her hair, she knew it wasn't going to be enough. She had four cords. Two of those were not separable into more, made of leather straps, and the other two were already too thin to part any further. She had not had nearly enough hair.

She ran her hand across her head, noting the short and uneven haircut she had given herself. It was nothing compared to the failure she now faced. Surely, there had to be something else she could use? Some other flexible thing to hold the raft together?

She considered her skirt again, but it was an affair of stiff panels and bird skulls, something worn for intimidation and defense. It was worthless in this case. She needed her sling, because her arm wasn't going to hold itself up, and the tourniquette, while no longer tight, was a part of the sling. She couldn't risk removing any of that.

But it looked like she might have to. There was no other option.

A morbid thought occurred to her. She needed material, and it was not certain that Hiccup had fallen into lava. Maybe she could sneak into the volcano, work her way down, and search for his body, for the clothes he was wearing.

It was a stupid, morbid, disrespectful idea, but it led her mind somewhere else, somewhere more useful. To the black mass she had left without a second thought back where they had started. The Night Fury. More specifically, the saddle and that odd contraption that ensured she could not use the dragon as a way off of this island. She could maybe salvage some kind of rope from that.

If the dragon was still there. If the saddle even had something she could use. If the dragon would let her take what she needed.

She cast around and found another sharp shell. There was one other option. She could kill a dragon and try to cut it open for its guts to use as cord, if the saddle wasn't available. The Night Fury might let her get close enough.

That felt wrong, in a vague way. She ignored the feeling, standing and almost falling, a sudden bout of dizziness striking her. It passed after a moment, but it was a warning. Her time was short, so short.

She began walking back, retracing the path she had originally taken to get to this side of the island, her eyes open for that odd rock formation. It was the only reason she would be able to find her way back at all.

There were no dragons on the shore at all, it seemed. Hopefully they were all asleep. She did not want to test her luck because she was pretty sure she didn't have any, to be in this situation in the first place.

One foot in front of the other, her mind on anything but her fatigue and pain. There was nothing but walking and looking to be done, neither of which needed her full attention.

Time did not pass so much as slip by. It was impossible to know, in her current state, how long she walked, slowly and awkwardly, before she saw the outcropping, helpfully illuminated from behind by the cave, more of a tunnel really, that led where she needed to do.

Then she was walking down the tunnel, slowly and without noise, her good hand clutching the shell. It was a poor substitute for an actual knife, and an even poorer substitute for her ax, but it was all she had. She would do her best to kill with it if necessary, no matter how outmatched she would be at this point.

The cave opened up, and she stumbled onto the ledge, her legs not working all that well anymore. She was just too tired to put much effort into ensuring her feet went where they needed to without skidding across the floor, reducing her walk to a shuffle.

Still, she had made it here. This ledge, so close to the ominous yellow fog, was not a preferred one, it seemed, because there was no sign of other dragons. Just that same black lump, not even in a different place this time. Perfect.

Before she stepped into the open she looked up and around, hoping to ensure she wasn't spotted and subsequently targeted. There were many ledges, and the further up she looked, the more occupied they were. Nadders hopped around, Gronckles blended in like oddly-textured boulders, and Terrors swooped in the highest points. A bit lower down, on larger ledges, Nightmares and Zipplebacks resided, lounging or quarreling.

She was in the heart of enemy territory, but now the enemy was home. It was a horrifying sight.

Her attention, on the other hand, was not so much on the horror as it was on the fact that she was simply a single moving bit of color among hundreds, and in a place the dragons seemed reluctant to go. She would be fine for a while.

A swath of spotted brown marked the place she had ended up on the ledge. She passed over it quietly, circling around the motionless dragon, looking for something she could use.

The saddle was too thick and wide to be useful, but there were cords, ropes. Plenty of them, more than enough.

Now that she was here, considering which ropes to take, her mind settled on the Night Fury. Why was it motionless and silent? It was still breathing, and there were no bloody marks from it on the ledge, so if there were injuries they had to be internal.

She wasn't sure how she felt about that. Her total experience with this dragon was... mixed. Several moments of fear, many of utter terror, and a few of admiration, though that was more directed at the novelty of flight than the dragon itself. It was, to her, an extension of Hiccup, but he was gone. So what was it?

Not important. Probably not a threat, but likely no use to her aside from salvaging its saddle.

Probably not a threat... but she didn't know why. Or if that still held. It was probably better if it died here. She could kill it.

She glanced down at her arm. It was responsible for that... and for her still being alive here, now.

Again, she came back to the same question. Why did it save her?

It didn't matter. She needed to take some of the ropes and cords off of the saddle, and it was silent. Trying to kill it was pointless and risky, so she wouldn't.

She crouched in front of the head, trying to figure out if it was asleep or unconscious. Her throat was too sore and dry to speak, but she waited. Not so much as a flicker of movement from behind those large black eyelids.

It seemed there would be no opposition. She took her sharp shell to the saddle, standing leaned over the dragon's wings and body to reach the parts she needed. Sawing through the rope took a while, but that was fine. There was no movement. She quickly gathered several moderately long sections of rope, almost enough.

Then there was a shift, a tremor in the black muscle and scale below her. She took a step back, her shell raised in defense, though her body was in no way capable of putting up much of a fight at all.

Movement, shifting obscured by shadows and the flickering light of the volcano. Then she was looking at green eyes.

There was something there, something familiar, but she dismissed that as an effect of her compromised state of mind. She needed those last bits of rope, and this animal was not hostile. Should not be hostile. Had not been hostile.

She took a step to the side, and it did the same, moving as slowly as she did. It didn't seem particularly interested in her personally, but nevertheless it moved.

She was wasting time. She approached it directly, her desperation making her bold, and severed the last rope, reaching over its head to do so. It stood still, watching her.

There was a small urge to laugh hysterically, but she fought that off. She had what she needed, and the dragon had not interfered. That was good.

She made it about ten steps into the tunnel before she felt a presence behind her. She turned.

It was following her at a short remove, and had stopped when she did. That was ominous, but its posture did not in any way suggest that it intended to attack, so she kept moving, unable to go any faster than a slow walk, nearly devoid of energy.

To her dismay, it was beginning to grow light in that same faded way outside. She had lost so much time, sleeping far longer than she thought, if it was already day.

She craved water. This would be... how long now? She had drunk a little after the final competition in the arena, and some before, but that was it. This would be the third day. She did not have long at all, but there was no point in giving up, no matter how much she wanted to rest.

So, she made her way all the way around the island to her raft... and the dragon followed, still at that same remove. She quickly grew used to its oddness. It had followed Hiccup, so who knew what was wrong with it. As long as it was content to watch, she really didn't care, and it might be useful in warding off other dragons.

Once there, she lashed together the final bits of the raft, though her hands were nearly useless now, definitely swollen and numb on both sides, though the injured side had been useless thanks to pain long before now.

Not long, not long at all. She inspected the raft for a moment. It was more than big enough for her to lie down on, which was the intention, two squares of planking joined in the center. But would it float? This would have all been for nothing if it did not.

Only one way to find out. She shoved it out into the shallows and followed gingerly, unwilling to get salt in her wounds.

It did float, quite well in fact. She was too far gone to feel satisfied by that. This was not going to work, but she was going to do it anyway. It was all she could do.

She awkwardly rolled onto the raft, hugging her bad arm to her chest, and lay prostrate across it, her eyes up to face the fog. This was it. There was nothing more she could do but wait. Hopefully it would be pulled out by the tide.

No chance. Her fate was in the winds now, and the winds led nowhere but death. That was fine. She had done all that could be done. Her death would be one of some honor.

A shift in weight, though it was not a big change. Astrid glanced to her side, half expecting to see a Valkyrie or something come to take her on now that her death was at hand in a matter of hours. There was no reason for them to make her wait.

Instead, she saw black paws and green eyes, the head of Hiccup's dragon.

What was it doing? She could tell, though she couldn't see, that only its upper body was aboard, the rest of it floating limp in the water. Like an extension to the raft, it didn't destabilize the craft. In fact, it might by chance actually be strengthening her raft simply by increasing the size of floating mass.

She had neither the motivation nor the strength to tell it to leave. Let it die with her. There was no water on that island and it could not fly, so it was just as doomed as she was. Somehow, it felt fitting for her rescuer to die with her. Its actions had not changed anything in the end.

She drifted off into unconsciousness with a vague feeling of discontent. They were going to die. Why had it bothered saving her for this?

_**Author's Note: **_**Astrid's lucky the water around the nest looked so bad that she decided not to clean her wound with it; even normal ocean water isn't good for that.**

**In writing this chapter, I basically had to put myself in the position Astrid was in. What did she have? Hair, clothing, driftwood, and a last resort of whatever was on Toothless. I think I came up with a semi-plausible way off the nest… though there's almost no chance the raft will drift anywhere useful on its own. Someone needs to direct it, and probably push it, really.**

**And in case anyone's wondering why Toothless is so compliant and subdued… well, we're never getting inside his head in this story, so I suppose we won't ever know for sure, but it's likely he just doesn't care at the moment. Grief, regret, mourning, and the knowledge that he is as doomed as Astrid guessed. He needs fresh water too, and there really isn't any on the nest.**


	3. Pressing On

Astrid lay listlessly on her back, unable to do much of anything else thanks to the debilitating exhaustion and dehydration slowly killing her. She forced her eyes open and saw nothing but the same grey fog. Time must have passed, but she didn't know how much.

She glanced to the side. The dragon was still there, most of his body limp...

No, not entirely limp. It was swaying slightly. As if the dragon was paddling with its hind paws, which she couldn't see, hidden in the murky water.

It was pushing them out to sea. Out past the tangle of sea stacks they were drifting through, the narrow passageways dangerous for real ships but not for her raft, which was small enough to easily navigate the maze of stone and water without hitting anything.

It was a ludicrous idea, the dragon both pushing and steering them on its own. She was definitely suffering through her final hours, to come up with something that ludicrous.

Her mind wandered, slow and delirious, as sea stacks passed in and out of sight. She was going to die here. Like Hiccup had. It was not death by combat, but she had tried her best. Maybe that would be enough. Or, she could have attacked a dragon and gotten herself killed. That would have been faster. Or maybe she should have tried to get the Night Fury into the air. Death by falling would have been a mercy.

But she had chosen the miniscule chance of survival over those options, and now she was paying the price. It would not be long.

Not long...

She was going to die having never killed a dragon, never using all that she had learned. That bothered her.

Her eyes strayed to the head of the Night Fury, within striking distance. It was not watching her, though its head was right next to her side, instead looking at what was in front of them, where it was paddling towards. She could try and kill it from here. A mercy and a way to validate her training, all of that effort. A way to make her parents proud.

But... it had saved her, once, though she didn't know why or what point that had served. It was an extension of Hiccup, who was gone. She couldn't be the one to end what remained of him, not when in some ways it was her fault they were out here, and therefore that all of this was happening.

Really, it was Hiccup's fault too, and this dragon's. All three of them were to blame, as all three had played a part, and now they were all going to die. Hiccup was gone, and she would soon follow. The dragon, adrift at sea and flightless besides, would not be long in falling to sea creatures, thirst, or drowning. All three of them were paying or had paid for their part in this.

This was it.

* * *

A scraping sound, as if from a distance. Pressure, then air on her bare skin. Nothing important. Nothing was important at all.

Cold, wet across her face. She was too far gone to care. Some of the water tricked into her upturned mouth… and it was not salty.

Astrid couldn't do much more than wonder at that as more found its way to her, very slowly restoring her life, drop by drop. It stopped sooner than she would have liked, quite abruptly, but that was fine. It was enough.

The fog in her mind ever so slowly cleared, and eventually she thought to open her eyes.

The sun was slowly burning through a lesser fog in the sky above her, though it had not even come close to doing so at the nest. She was sure that meant something, but for the moment, all that mattered was that she wasn't dead. What was happening? Now that she had a momentary reprieve, the fatalistic attitude she had fallen into was driven back by her will to live, given the slightest chance.

She managed to roll over-

Onto her injured arm. A strangled scream ripped through her throat, the unstoppable agony pouring through her, rock and shell pushing on her injuries through the makeshift bandage-sling. Her body jerked away, rolling to her other side. The pain took what felt like hours to recede to a point where she felt capable of thinking or breathing normally.

Okay... that hurt. She opened her eyes, feeling utterly miserable.

From this angle, all she saw was a grassy slope leading up and out of sight in the distance. It seemed they had hit land.

How had they reached land? That didn't matter. Maybe the gods had decided she didn't deserve to die like that. But if she wanted to keep living, she needed to move. To understand the situation.

Another day, another island, and the same set of instructions, but this time she was in even worse condition. Sitting up took what felt like all of the strength she had left, and walking was a distant fantasy at the moment. Maybe once her limbs caught on to the fact that she was no longer about to die of dehydration.

In the meantime, Astrid did her best to take stock of where she was. A rocky shore that looked distinctly cleaner, more like those Berk had in abundance, fading into a grassy slope leading inland, though by the looks of the shore this was not a large island, so there could not be much land out of view behind the small hill.

Her raft, still intact, was beached on the shore. It was not close to her,and she did not understand how she had gotten to where she was, lying on the shore a good distance away from it. She could not have walked to where she was now.

Then another question came to her sluggish mind. Where had the water come from? She looked around some more, but there was no sign of water from where she sat. The hill blocked her view inland, and the sea was as before, undrinkable.

Where was the Night Fury? Nowhere to be seen.

As if thinking of it had summoned it, the black dragon walked up over the hill, its tail dragging and eyes tired. If she had intended to kill it, if this was any other time, she would be excited by the obvious fatigue, but right now all she felt was confusion.

The dragon walked right up to her, its mouth closed, and considered her for a moment. Then it opened its mouth and spit on her, a torrent of water hitting her in the face.

She spluttered, shocked by the sudden assault, and wondered if this was some sort of hallucination... before connecting the dots.

Water. It had brought water in the only way it could, carrying it in its mouth. There was no other explanation for her recovery.

A small shudder wracked her body. The knowledge that this dragon had not only brought them here, but obviously dragged her off the raft and brought her water...

She did not like being indebted to an animal, but there was no point in denying it. This was the second time in the last few days it had saved her from certain death for no reason that she could understand. What drove an animal to keep her alive? To care at all?

That didn't matter. It was a fact that it had kept her alive, so she would take that into account for future plans...

Along with the fact that she owed it, big-time. A life debt was too strong a term to use when owed to an animal, but she would not be the one to kill it, and if anyone else tried she would have to stop them. Somehow. That was what honor demanded. A life for a life.

Gods, this was going to be difficult. But that was a problem for later. Right now, she still needed to get to safety, to Berk. Somehow.

The dragon was still staring, its ears down. After a while it seemed to lose interest and wandered off, the now useless tailpiece dragging behind it.

It had to be tired and hungry, just like she was, but all it did was curl up by the raft, not doing anything. It seemed she wouldn't need to deal with it for a while.

Her own weakness, on the other hand... she needed to get up, to start moving. With water came some small amount of hope. There was a chance of actually getting home now, depending on what she had access to on this new island. Assuming the fog in the air meant they were close to the edge of the nest, given it was thinner here, she knew where to go. Two weeks sailing, South. One week if the wind was in their favor and she could somehow harness it, but two if she had to row.

She couldn't use the wind, because she had no sail. Maybe there would be something she could make a sail out of.

But to go any further in her plans, she needed to know what was available. That meant standing and walking, though her legs felt like rotten fish, floppy and almost boneless.

Astrid managed to get to her knees fairly quickly, but standing... that took a while. Her willpower was all that got her up, though it got easier once she was on her feet entirely.

This was doable. She repeated that phrase in her mind, focusing on it. All of this _could _be done, and Astrid Hofferson was not one to fail a doable task, whatever it was.

She walked, very slowly, to the top of the grassy hill, and looked out on the island. There was a small pond, more grassy hills, and nothing else. Even the grass seemed to be dying in certain places. The pond was obviously a temporary fixture, a large hollow between hills that was filled at the moment.

This island held nothing but water, and that possibly enough for a few weeks if both she and the dragon depleted it. A month or two on her own. Not enough in either case.

But she had survived two brushes with death, if not by her own efforts. This one was not going to render those strokes of luck worthless.

What did she have? She considered absolutely everything, wishing she had Hiccup's affinity for making things. A list was easy, but putting the pieces together was hard.

The first thing that came to mind was rope. She could salvage a bit more from the saddle, but her remaining hair was too short, and she didn't even know if the shell she had wedged into the raft for safekeeping was still there, so she wasn't even sure if she could cut it. The grass, she determined by pulling a handful out of the ground, was too weak and small to use in any way. Even the roots were worthless.

The saddle could possibly be useful, a convex shape that she might be able to use. If she took it off and somehow bent it, it could possibly hold some water.

But how to bend it... the only other things she had left were the metal bits of the saddle and odd tailfin, and the tailfin fabric itself, which was too tough for her to cut well with the shell. Aside from that, it wasn't wide or long enough to make good rope...

But it caught the wind. It was designed to catch the wind. She might be able to use it as a sail.

Okay. She had a possible sail, meaning there was a chance, if the wind was right, to make it to Berk in a week... or three, if the wind didn't cooperate. She _might_ be able to get the Night Fury to paddle again, but there was really no way to know how fast that was, so she couldn't count on it as anything but a final bit of insurance, that if there was no wind whatsoever they would still be moving in the right direction, however slowly.

That was a plan. It took a while to starve to death, so she could _probably_ make it to Berk first. Water was going to be a bigger issue, even now.

So, she made her way down to the pond and drank deeply, the cold water soothing her throat and wetting her mouth for what felt like the first time in days. Good. That three-day counter was now reset... but she had to plan for three weeks. There was enough water for that, but only if she stayed here, where it didn't matter how much she had.

Somehow, she needed to get it onto the raft. The idea with the saddle somehow forced into a bowl shape reentered her mind. Could she do it?

Well... she did still have her skirt, which held about the right shape, but was in no way waterproof. If she could bend the saddle to fit her skirt around it...

She stumbled back to the raft and dragon, quickly locating the shell. Luckily, it was still there. That could come in handy. Then she examined the saddle. Getting it off wouldn't be too hard, but bending it might be difficult. It was thin and streamlined, but it was probably pretty stiff, and she was weak, one arm out of commission.

She had gotten this far. There was nothing to do but try. She approached the Night Fury, looking at how the saddle and tailfin were attached. There were quite a few leather straps and buckles, which she planned to salvage for more cords anyway, so she could just sever them.

If the dragon felt like cooperating, that was. There was no way she was getting to some of those buckles without climbing on it, at this point. How would it feel about that? She didn't care.

As it turned out, the Night Fury didn't object, though its head turned to watch her removing everything, and at some points it growled softly. She was too far gone to care as long as it did nothing more. It was benefiting from all of this too, given she intended it to come along as a way of last-resort movement.

There was something odd in how it cared about her literally climbing on it to cut parts of the saddle off, but she ignored that too. Her attention was entirely focused on surviving this, not the emotions of an animal involved in the process, even if it was an animal she owed.

The tailfin she removed last, carefully unstrapping it to avoid injuring and possibly provoking the creature she was taking it off of. The dragon growled at her, but did nothing more even then, and once she had taken it off, it yanked its tail away and closed its eyes.

Moody. Perfect. At least it wasn't clinging to the saddle and tail. She needed them.

The tailfin was the easiest modification, so she did that first, taking a metal rod from another part of the saddle and wedging the tailfin open, totally ruining some complex-looking gears in the process. Then all she had to do was stick the rod upright through a part of the raft, and she had a makeshift sail, if a small one. It was better than nothing, and her raft was small too.

Then it was time to figure out how to carry water with her. Ideally enough for a human and a moderately small dragon for three weeks, but she would have to make do with however much this saddle could hold once bent into the right shape.

Flipping it over, she was relieved to find that it was mostly hollow, a small depression already present in the underside. She could, with her good arm, bend the edges upward, but that was an awkward process. At best, she could hold it in a watertight bowl shape, but she on her own couldn't keep it like that, as it fell back into its intended shape the moment she let go.

An answer to that issue came to mind almost immediately. Her skirt. It was the right shape and while it wasn't like a rope, the plates were fashioned together and would add additional height to the container. The tradeoff was that aside from her most basic underwear she would be entirely devoid of clothing.

Well, if she made it to a place where she would need to be embarrassed about being basically naked, she would consider that success. Her hair had been a bigger sacrifice, and she had already made that choice.

Astrid took her skirt off, noting as she did that the plates had gaps between them. She could fill those with some of the extra leather, the chunks too thick and stubby to use as any kind of cord. Fitting the waist of the skirt over the molded leather was a long and difficult task, but she got it done eventually,after much frustration and several total failures. Twice, her hand and arm had given out and the attempt at forcing the leather into the waist of the skirt failed, the leather popping out and returning to its original shape, undoing everything.

Finally, though, she could stop struggling and weave the leather strips into the top of the strange container, making sure it was watertight all the way up. It looked, quite frankly, ridiculous, but did it work?

She carried it to the pond and set it down by the water. Her hands were her only option for moving water from one to the other, so she set to work. The fact that she could fill it with her hands at all meant there weren't any big leaks, so that was good. It would not hold enough for three weeks, not for both her and the dragon, but maybe enough if the wind was good, and if not... it wasn't like there was another option. She had created the best possible water storage container out of what she had, and that was all that could be done.

Her stomach rumbled, a small ache alongside her arm and shoulder. Both throbbed incessantly, and she was pretty sure her shoulder was was nothing she could do with her arm, and she didn't even want to think about putting her shoulder back into place herself. Her arm hurt badly enough, and she was barely functioning as it was. She didn't want to mess with that side of her body on the off chance she could relieve a small ache.

Actually... was it still dislocated? She had heard stories about how, very rarely, a dislocated joint would pop back into place on its own. Maybe she didn't need to do anything?

She very gingerly tried shifting that shoulder. It ached, a dull pain, but nothing more. The fact that she could move it at all implied it wasn't serious. It seemed she had gotten lucky.

Astrid turned her attention back to something she understood, unable to come to any useful conclusion about the state of her injuring. The water container was as good as it was going to get. There was no lid, and some water would probably slosh out when the raft rocked, but that was unavoidable.

It was time to go. The pool of stagnant water was more than half empty from her filling the container, and she drank as much as she could stomach from the rest. Then she carefully dragged the leather container all the way back to the raft, tying it down with the leftover scraps from the saddle's straps.

This was it. Was there anything else she needed to do?

Well, getting the dragon back into motion was one thing. And now that she thought about it, she needed to get it to drink before they set off, given the water they were leaving was going to be worthless once they were gone, and the water they were carrying precious.

She crouched in front of the Night Fury, for some reason hesitant to wake it. It was still a wild animal. Maybe if she didn't touch it directly...

She held her hand in front of its nostrils, knowing it probably had a good sense of smell.

A huff. Its eyes slid open, pupils dilated and weary. She saw something in those eyes yet again, but she couldn't figure out what it was. Maybe the eyes of dragons were just strange. She definitely had never taken the time to really look before now, so it made sense she would only now be noticing whatever it was.

The dragon looked her over, some change in its body language echoing confusion.

Astrid wordlessly pointed in the direction of the remaining water, and then at the raft, not really convinced her point would be conveyed. She was acting solely on the knowledge that Hiccup had made himself understood and had given it orders in the past.

Her blind faith was rewarded by a groan, a confused look, and finally the dragon getting up and walking over to the pond. That was all good, aside from the obvious confusion. Why..?

She thought about it, and then groaned. It was probably confused by the fact that she looked different. Yes, she was very glad it was a dragon here and not a human. She was pretty much out of material altogether, and as it was all she had left were her boots and a small bit of cloth underwear. Even her chest-wrap had gone into the sling. Actually...

She shook her head, annoyed at herself. Her boots were waterproof. She made her way to the now quite depleted pond and filled both boots with what little remained, carrying both back to the raft and wedging them to either side of the main water carrier. Every drop she could get onto the raft made it a little more likely she would survive this.

There. _Now_ she had absolutely nothing left. Unless her underwear could be used for something, but she couldn't see what that might be. She was done.

The dragon had followed her back to the raft, watching intently. She carefully slid the raft off the rocks and across the small bit of shore, pushing it back into the water. This time around she sat on the raft instead of lying down. The makeshift sail was close to the center of the raft, only slightly off the exact center because that was the place the two sections were joined. She sat on that side, counterbalancing the water on the other section.

The Night Fury obligingly returned to its odd position half on and half off, its paws on either side of its head, which almost abutted the metal pole serving as a mast.

Astrid, in a moment of impulse, shifted her position slightly, laying a hand on the dragon's head. If it was going to work to get them somewhere safe, it would be smart to make sure she knew if it faltered. If it collapsed and sunk under the waves, she would notice.

But that wouldn't happen... hopefully. All it had to do was float and paddle when it could. That shouldn't be so taxing as to prevent it from staying with her. She needed it to paddle if the wind didn't cooperate.

Astrid held up a hand, feeling a slight wind. The fog was thin here, and she could make out where the sun was. It was lower on the horizon than she had expected, but that was helpful. If was after midday, given how long she had spent here awake, so that meant the sun was in the West... meaning her left was South. Parallel to the shore.

She shifted the sail and pointed South.

Her voice cracked and sounded strained even to her own ears, but the message was not as important as the fact that it was a mark of defiance, in spite of all she had faced.

"That way." She grinned as the raft began shifting in direction even as it drifted out to sea. "Berk is that way."

* * *

Days passed, followed in turn by nights. The weather was overcast, foreboding but not yet striking or acting out the threat it carried. The wind was not always in their favor, but it was better than nothing. The water supplies were going at a slow but steady pace, though Astrid gave the dragon precious little, hoping she wasn't killing the one she owed through stinginess. As the dragon didn't complain or attempt to take more from the obvious sources of water within sight, she believed she was giving enough.

Or maybe it just didn't care. It certainly wasn't fishing or leaving the raft for anything, paddling and nothing more, sleeping randomly. Maybe it couldn't fish like this, or maybe it wasn't a great swimmer...

Or maybe it feared what lurked beneath them. She did, and she did not easily admit fear of anything, even to herself. Even as her stomach complained and her body lost fat, becoming withdrawn and bony, she was worried about what might think of her as food more than the other way around.

The reason for that was a stark one. Five days in, there had been flashes of light in the ocean off in the distance, silhouettes in front of the unnatural light, and even a few unearthly cries. Some kind of water creature, one that could make light. It reminded her that not only was this not her element, it was the element of things that could prey on them, if those things so chose.

The Night Fury had seemed just as worried, though it had not changed course. The unknown creatures weren't directly in their path anyway.

And so that day passed in apprehension, and that night. The strange lights under the waves hadn't disappeared into the distance until almost daybreak. That had given her this new fear of what lurked beneath.

By the end of the first week, she was suffering. No food, anywhere. Water was rationed, and it did help a little in keeping her stomach from bothering her, but not nearly enough. Her arm was a constant, unchanging source of agony. She remained lucid, which really felt more like a punishment than a benefit, given there was absolutely nothing for her to do.

She spent a lot of time staring into the Night Fury's eyes in the end, unwilling to look out upon the endless ocean more than the bare minimum necessary to ensure they didn't miss anything, though moving at the slow speed they averaged with the wind only occasionally helping, it was not an urgent task to check the horizon every few minutes.

The waves unnerved her now. So it was the eyes of a dragon or watching her own body and hard-earned muscles waste away. An easy choice.

Or so it seemed. But look as she might, she couldn't figure out what bothered her about those large, acid-green eyes. They bore nothing more than a passing resemblance to Hiccup's eyes, and they weren't unusual apart from their size, but there was something about them. She was just wasting time by thinking on that, but they did unnerve her ever so slightly, and it was not as if she had anything better to be doing. It didn't help that the dragon was always staring in her direction too, looking beyond her to the endless sea in front of them.

They passed entire days in silence, both quietly wasting away. The wind picked up after the first week, but that only replaced the dragon's more and more infrequent paddling. They were both starving.

At no point did the dragon even look at her in hunger. That was a relief, if a confusing one she spent hours pondering, lacking anything better to think about. Surely dragons ate humans when the opportunity arose. Several Vikings had seen corpses carried off at the end of raids, though preventing that was a high priority if at all possible.

But maybe it was just the monstrosity that commanded them that ate humans. She had never seen dragons actually eating anything, save for swallowing the occasional fish in the middle of a raid.

Thinking of food was torture on its own, but she had no choice. Something had to fill the many empty hours.

* * *

The pain in Astrid's stomach was constant now, and she felt oddly apathetic about it all. That was new. How long had it been? Long enough that the water was gone. There were no landmarks, no signs of any kind. Some days the sun blazed down mercilessly, and some days she shivered in the cold, draping herself across the dragon's head for any sort of heat whatsoever, desperate and suffering. The dragon never stopped pushing them forward entirely, though at this point its intermittent efforts couldn't be helping that much. The tailfin she had rigged as a small sail was doing most of the work now, and keeping that in the right orientation was the only task she had left. She did it, no matter how hot or cold or tired she was, because it was all that was left, the only way she could affect fate.

And then not even that, sinking back into a stupor as the days wore on. Dehydration again, this time with starvation, injury, and a bad sunburn to boot. She didn't want it to end like this, but it wasn't like she had a choice.

Then something caught her attention, something she had been dreading. The head she had kept an eye and often a hand on for weeks, the only other living thing who knew of their plight, slipped away from underneath her arm, disappearing. It was gone.

That hurt more than she had thought possible, in this moment before the end. It had held on so long, only to disappear before they reached land... if they ever would. If her body would not wash ashore somewhere, nearly naked, emaciated and injured, on a makeshift raft that had somehow held together. It was a horrible thought.

But maybe it was better for the Night Fury to disappear beneath the waves. At least no one would find its body and profit off of it.

The last thing she saw before giving up and letting herself fall into what was probably a deep, final sleep, was a comforting hallucination, that of the dragon's body seemingly swimming away at an angle. It was probably just floating dead in the water. She was the last of the three alive, and that would not be true much longer. This was the failure she had expected weeks ago, the same final moments. At least it was not new this time around.

_**Author's Note: **_**Well, that was a dark ending. I think, from the fact that Toothless is listed as one of the main characters while Hiccup is not, everyone can easily assume he is not as dead as Astrid thinks. **

**Also, in case anyone is wondering, this is the end of the first small arc. **


	4. Thrice Saved

Astrid was too far gone to react to faint sounds in the distance. She barely recognized them as voices, people yelling and talking.

The voices grew closer, and she heard water sloshing around a larger chunk of wood, a tiny part of her identifying the familiar sound as waves beating against a ship of some sort.

"Hold it steady!"

A weight rocked her small raft.

"What do ya think we're trying to do?"

"Does anyone know how to treat wounds?"

"Let me take a look…"

A horrible, wrenching pain flared through Astrid's arm, and she flinched away, feeling her mind falling into dark relief.

* * *

Pain, discomfort, movement. Something was holding her down and something else was digging around in her wounds, poking and prodding and torturing her further than she would have thought possible. She had no strength left to resist with.

Then someone put something to her mouth and held her nose. She swallowed the bitter liquid without putting up a fight; she knew, in a distant way, that there was no point. Oblivion came again shortly after, a welcome respite.

* * *

Astrid slowly opened her eyes, expecting some new island, maybe one with a tree this time around, just for variety. The struggle for survival was going to have to continue. But now she would be on her own entirely...

No, there was a familiar ceiling above her head, and she remembered flashes of what she now identified as being rescued and treated by people she knew. An immense wave of relief broke over her, pure stress disappearing like the wind had so often in the last few weeks, departing in an instant. There were three familiar notches in the post above her head, notches she herself had accidentally carved with her ax in years passed, tossing it too high in practice of some sort. This was her room. That made what she was lying on her bed, and the island Berk. She had made it, despite everything.

She was the only one to survive, in the end. That thought sobered her, and she realized that she was crying silently, tears leaking from her eyes on their own accord. It was a strange mixture of relief and sorrow that broke whatever little was left of her self-control. This might be the first time she had cried for any reason since... since she could remember. It was embarrassing, but for the moment she didn't care. She had made it.

After some time, she decided to sit up. There was no hurry, no rush to survive now, but that didn't mean she wanted to lie around for longer than need be. Sitting up was so easy, compared to how much of a struggle it had been before, but...

Her muscles felt weak. All of them. She raised her good arm, idly noting that her bad arm was properly bandaged, not to mention that she was wearing a tan version of her normal tunic.

Flexing her good arm proved what she feared. Her muscles were atrophied, small, weak if not totally gone. As for her bad arm?

She didn't try to move the heavily bandaged limb, but she did try to move her fingers. They tapped against the side of her bed, reassuring her that she was not crippled for life. She still had the arm, and she could use her hand. The arm would have been taken off if there was no chance of recovery.

But it would be recovery, a long and frustrating process she knew from watching her father after he had broken his leg in a raid. Her entire body was weak and her arm was badly injured. Recovery would take far too long for her liking.

A noise came from the doorway, and she looked up to see a tall, blond-haired Viking with a friendly face and soft blue eyes watching her. He wore no helmet and no visible weapon.

"Pretty discouraging," Sighvat, remarked, coming in to sit in a chair that she didn't remember being in her room before, facing her. His face was relieved. "But it could be worse."

"Could... be," Astrid agreed, her voice creaking from disuse. "Much worse." She glanced at her injured arm. "How bad is it?"

"Gothi says it will probably be usable soon," her father reassured her. "And given you'll be rebuilding your strength _anyway_..."

She nodded, understanding. Of course she would. This just meant everything would be easier, because she would need to retrain all of herself, not just that arm. The same routines she used to maintain fitness would work for that too, no modification necessary.

They were avoiding the important things, here and now, but she was fine with that. This felt surreal, and she didn't think she wanted to tell the story more than once.

At that... best to get it over with. "Could you get the chief? And mom, and Gothi." She had added Gothi on the off chance the old healer would need to know exactly what she had gone through to best treat her. "I don't..."

Her voice broke. She chose to blame that on her throat, not the tumultuous mix of emotions running through her. "I only want to tell this story once."

Her father nodded. "Asa is already on it."

How would her mother know to summon Gothi and Stoick? She didn't ask, but her father must have seen her confusion. "We heard you sit up." He nodded to the door. "This house is small, remember? And your bed creaks."

She did know that, actually. It was just how they lived. Things weren't perfect, but as long as they did what they needed to, imperfections could be tolerated. They lived simply, even more so than most Vikings.

Astrid and Sighvat sat in silence for a while. He understood her reluctance to speak, which was reassuring in a way him asking her to speak never could be. For her, knowing he understood was better than anything else. They were warriors, people of few words.

Eventually, her mother entered the room, followed by Gothi, the wizened old healer that served as the village elder. Stoick loomed awkwardly in the doorway, probably seeing that he wasn't quite able to comfortably fit into her small room along with the three other people.

Asa came over to the side of the bed and put her hand on Astrid's good shoulder, smiling down at her. At the same time, Gothi walked right up to Astrid and began poking at her arm, small jolts of pain coming from where she poked. Astrid ignored that. No Viking healer was going to be gentle, and after what she had gone through, this was almost not worth noticing. She could remember fragments of her earlier treatment too, and compared to that this was nothing.

"So..?" Stoick cleared his throat, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. "Astrid. Good to see you awake."

"Astrid," Asa said quietly, "do you know where Hiccup is?"

Now Astrid understood Stoick's hesitation. They didn't know what she knew, but she and Hiccup had disappeared at the same time, and of course, he had not been found, would never be found. How long had it been? Weeks, all in all, since that day they kidnapped her and showed her the sky…

"Sir..." Astrid began, addressing her Chief, before faltering under the weight of the truth. How could she say this? He looked so hopeful, focused entirely on her. How did she tell him his son was not only dead, but had been going behind his back, training a dragon in secret, and depending on how one looked at it, possibly betraying the tribe?

She shook her head wordlessly, conveying the bare minimum. Stoick's face fell, the hope in his eyes dimming, replaced by nothing but dull pain.

"Astrid, what can you tell us?" Asa asked gently.

A moment of silence passed, and Astrid shook her head again. There was too much, and it had all just happened for her, because those weeks on the raft did not feel real. She couldn't figure out how to explain without falling apart, and she wasn't going to fall apart in front of her Chief, but he needed to hear…

"Report, Astrid," her father said calmly, somehow guessing what was stopping her. "Just the essentials."

Like a warrior would, concise and quick, ignoring the emotions in favor of useful information. She could do that, maybe. "The day of the final test, after Hiccup had won, I went to a place in the woods he liked to go to, and waited for him there. When he arrived, I questioned him on his success in training." She could do this. There was no mention of why she went, or what she had hoped to find, or the emotions that drove her.

Astrid couldn't meet Stoick's eyes. What would he think of all of this?

"Before he could do more than try to throw me off the line of questioning," short and concise, no intimate details, just the facts, "I heard a dragon in the bushes. I saw it and tried to attack, but Hiccup interfered, stopping... both of us."

"Both of you?" Stoick's voice was laden with dread. "He took down you and the dragon? Why?" He was obviously anticipating Astrid telling of his son's gruesome death at the claws of a dragon. She almost wished that was the rest of the story. It would certainly make things easier. But she was in no condition to lie effectively, even if honor had not utterly forbidden it.

"No, he stopped us." Astrid sighed, leaning back against the headboard of her bed. "The dragon listened to him. Obeyed him. I ran." She had way bigger problems than admitting she had fled; anyone with a brain larger than a pebble would have.

Silence. Even Gothi had stopped working, watching Astrid closely. No one spoke. She assumed objections were going to be held until she was done talking.

"He and it picked me up and took me into the air," and here she was glad she could leave most of it unsaid. Those moments of terror and then awe did not need to be explained. "They showed me Berk from above, and I determined that the dragon was a cripple, its flight reliant on Hiccup's steering of a false tail. We flew until sunset." Facts, only facts.

She would love to have been able to end it there, but there was so much more to tell. "Then, on some sort of signal, the dragon took us to the nest. It's a volcanic island devoid of any life whatsoever save dragons. Inside, there is a dragon larger than anything we know... by about a hundred times. It had no problem eating other dragons."

"How big, exactly?" Her father, asking a practical question.

"Big enough to kick down the doors to the Great Hall," she replied seriously. "If it can even get out of the volcano without breaking it in the process."

Now she was on to the hard parts. "It saw us, and in the general frenzy of all of the dragons fleeing, one knocked into us from above. We all fell." She forced herself to continue despite the surge of physical terror the memory of that fall elicited. "Hiccup was too far down, but I wasn't. His dragon grabbed me," and at that she gestured to her injured arm, "and flung us to the wall of the volcano, barely landing on a ledge. It couldn't get Hiccup. He fell..." She trailed off, sure they got the point.

"So he died in battle," Asa remarked quietly. "At the nest, no less. That will earn him a spot in Valhalla."

Stoick said nothing, wordlessly gesturing for Astrid to continue.

"I couldn't operate the dragon's tail, and if we crashed because I tried to learn I don't think we both would have been able to walk away." She had been injured enough already. "So I went down to the shore and collected the wood for a raft. My hair," she ran her hand through the jagged and short remnants, "went to tying it together, along with bits of the dragon's saddle."

"It let you take that?" Her mother sounded confused.

"It followed me back and came with me," Astrid admitted. "It got us to another island, one with water. There I used its false tailfin to make a sail, and the saddle... and my skirt... to make something to hold water."

"And it stayed with you." Stoick spoke in a flat, neutral tone. "Did you leave it there?"

Astrid met his level stare carefully. "Sir, it was swimming and pushing the raft. My chance of survival was greater keeping it with me, so no, I didn't leave it."

"And then?"

"Weeks, no food, just water, on the open sea." How could she summarize that long expanse of nothingness? "There isn't much to tell. We ran out of water, eventually, and I don't know what happened to the dragon. The last thing I remember was it slipping out from under my arm. I think it drowned."

Her father coughed, breaking the momentary quiet. "I suppose we should-"

"No." Stoick held up a hand. "Astrid, exactly how 'tame' was the beast?" His voice was serious.

She would not speak ill of the dead, but she wouldn't lie either. "It obeyed Hiccup voluntarily, from what I saw. With me, it just followed along. At no point did it threaten me, and I got into its personal space for extended periods of time when removing the saddle. Despite not eating for weeks, it never tried to eat me on the trip back."

"And does it obey you?" A careful question.

That was about when she figured out why Stoick was asking. "Sir, if it's still alive..." She didn't know what she would do, but she would have to do or say _something_. She still owed it, and honorable Vikings did not forget debts owed no matter how strange.

Stoick crossed his arms. "It should be. We're not sending out another hunting party until tomorrow, and no one has even seen it since it was first spotted. But if it can't leave... it's still here, somewhere."

"Good." At least it was on Berk and not somewhere she could not exert influence.

"So?" Stoick leaned forward, his bulk cutting out the light from torches behind him, filling the doorframe. "Does it obey you?"

She would not lie. "Probably not, no. It was Hiccup's dragon. But it doesn't mind me."

"Then we hunt it." That was her father. "No matter how odd it is, it's still-"

"No." Astrid grimaced, that exclamation having hurt her throat. "I owe it," she continued in a softer, quieter voice. "It saved my life twice. I think I can get it to obey me, and if I can, then there's no reason to kill it." She didn't want it dead.

"Astrid, you're..." Her mother gestured to her. "Recovering. Isn't it smarter to just let our warriors kill it and be sure it won't turn on the village?"

"Smarter, not better," Astrid said, trying to figure out how to convince them. It didn't help that she herself would have been nearly impossible to persuade in a situation like this. It had taken an abduction and a life-or-death struggle to force her to where she was now. "I owe it, and I am loyal to Berk. Securing its obedience is the only way I can hold to honor."

"You don't _owe _a dragon anything," her mother objected. "It's an animal-"

Astrid seized on that, glad her mother had given her the opening. "An animal. Animals can be trained. Animals can be useful. Hiccup did the hard part; let me do the rest and make it safe." If she made it safe, then nobody would kill it, assuming the Chief backed her up.

"Stoick, do us a favor and put an end to this," her mother requested. "It's madness, and an insult to the memory of everyone who died to dragons."

Stoick didn't seem to hear her. "It was Hiccup's dragon?" he asked in a low, husky voice. "His work?"

Astrid knew what to say. "Like an invention, except this one worked. His work, his success." The village had tolerated Hiccup's inventions because the Chief did, and _he _tolerated them for some unfathomable reason.

"He was good at the things he wasn't supposed to do," Stoick said.

"Stoick, you can grieve," her mother said suddenly. "You've lost your son." She was brusque, usually, but this was said understandingly.

"Later," Stoick said, crossing his arms. "Right now, I need to act as a chief should. This is important."

"So tell her no," Asa replied crossly. "It's your decision." She seemed very unhappy about that.

"If Astrid thinks she can do it," Stoick decided, "if she's willing to try, to shoulder the burden… It is not impossible if Hiccup did it, and a dragon _would _be useful if properly harnessed…"

"I won't let you down, chief," Astrid promised, though she knew what she proposed was not going to be easy. It was _possible_, which was enough.

"I didn't say yes yet." He frowned. "It cannot fly. What kind of dragon is it? The few sightings have all been useless in determining that."

"A Night Fury," Astrid responded reluctantly. "It's the one Hiccup claimed to have shot down. That's the only thing that explains the missing tailfin." There was pretty much no chance it was anything else. She knew the important parts of the book of dragons well enough, and nothing looked like that... except possibly for the dragon no one had ever seen. It being injured in conjunction to Hiccup's claims was just another piece of proof.

"A Night Fury." Stoick sounded shocked, to say the least. "Hiccup shot down and tamed a Night Fury. You spent two weeks with no food right next to a starving Night Fury."

"The stuff of legends," her father agreed, sounding totally serious. "And what's more, she was at the nest."

"It's directly North," Astrid supplied. "There's no trick, really. It's just behind the maze of sea stacks and fog, and I assume dragons."

Stoick growled, sounding almost like a dragon himself. "No tricks, no unreachable magic nest, just a place we cannot get to alive thanks to the beasts. I was almost hoping there was some simple trick that would get us there easily."

"Sadly not." Her mother shrugged. "So we continue as we always have."

"As we always have," Stoick agreed, his voice dropping to near a whisper. He looked up, his eyes narrowed. "Do your best to tame that beast. If you can't, if it attacks you or anyone else, it dies."

"Deal." She wasn't optimistic enough to object to that condition. It was a dangerous wild animal, and she would not hamstring the village's ability to defend itself if the dragon turned on them. She didn't think it would happen, but it was a possibility.

Then she felt a pinch on her injured arm, a surge of pain, and almost jumped out of the bed entirely. She had totally forgotten Gothi, the old woman's diminutive figure almost hidden by the bed.

"Gothi?" From something in her father's voice, she could tell he had also forgotten the village Elder. "What is your opinion on all of this?"

Gothi shrugged wordlessly, and then smiled at Astrid. She was a woman of few words, but it was pretty clear she approved. Of what, exactly, wasn't so obvious. She shuffled to the doorway, apparently done with... whatever it was she had done. Astrid really didn't understand the Elder's ways, but she wasn't supposed to.

"So... right." Stoick moved aside to let Gothi through. "Good luck and a good recovery, Astrid."

"I'm sorry, chief," Astrid couldn't look him in the eye. "I wish..." She wasn't sure what she wished. That they could have somehow caught Hiccup, or that they could have just escaped, that one specific Zippleback had been a little slower, a little less frantic in its escape.

"So do I." He left silently, his weight not even making the floorboards creak, somehow.

Astrid shrugged off the feeling of failure, forcing herself to be practical. There was nothing she could have done, and it was over now anyway. She swung her legs down to the floor, sitting on the bed without the support of the backboard.

"Do you plan on getting up?" Asa smiled. "I figured as much. Nothing keeps us Hoffersons down."

"Not even a situation that would have killed any other Viking on this island," her father murmured approvingly. "I'm amazed you made it out alive."

"I nearly didn't..." How many times? "At least four times."

"Four?"

"The fall, the Zippleback, the first raft trip, and the second one." She listed them off absently, remembering the despair, the struggle, the pain...

"The Zippleback?" Her father came over to her side and held out an arm.

She stared at it questioningly.

"In case you need help standing," he explained. "Even the strongest sometimes do."

"Thanks." She took the arm, forcing herself upright. "The Zippleback that found me asleep at the nest. It must have not considered me worth eating, because it left me alone."

"The gods were helping you out," he agreed. "You are the first person to go to the nest alive that we know of, or at least the first to escape to tell the tale."

She nodded, focusing on not falling over. Her legs felt like she had just run around the entirety of Berk for a day straight... after her normal training. It was almost embarrassing how much effort she needed to put into standing.

Her father must have guessed how she felt. "You were out for three days after we found you, had starved for several weeks, suffered major injuries, and almost died of dehydration twice. Living is the best you could ask for. The rest was inevitable."

Astrid knew that, but she didn't really believe it. Years of training, years of trying to ensure she could keep up with the likes of Snotlout in strength, not to mention exceeding him in every other measure of fitness, gone in less than a month, along with her hair.

She took a step away from her father, forcing herself to remain upright more through annoyed defiance than anything else. She would not let this, of all things, beat her.

"Good." Her father walked ahead. "Dinner should be almost ready. We were roasting a chicken before you woke up."

Astrid followed him out the back door to a spit over a fire. They didn't do much cooking at home, but still far more than most people, who usually ate all their meals at the Great Hall whenever possible. Her family was a little less... sociable... than the rest of Berk. They were immigrants, after all, if ones who had been here for almost two decades, longer than Astrid had been alive.

"So," her father said amiably, turning the bird on the spit, "what exactly does a non-hostile dragon act like?"

Of course he would ask. "I didn't get much of a chance to see before things went bad, and after that it just didn't care."

"Strange, though." He pulled the chicken off of the fire, examining it. "Is it possible this is a quirk of that species?"

"I don't know," Astrid answered, not at all reluctant to admit her lack of knowledge. "Maybe. It would explain why Hiccup survived whatever insanity drove him to tame it."

"And is that same insanity affecting you?" He raised his hands defensively immediately. "Not to call you crazy. But it is strange, from an outsider's perspective. What are your motivations?"

She couldn't really get mad when it was her own father asking. "Honor. It saved me, and I owe it. This keeps it safe, while also hopefully making it useful in the long-term."

"And it makes you something new, something unique," her father mused. "A warrior who tames monsters, somehow."

"No, that would be Hiccup." She eyed the bird, now feeling hungry. "I'm just going to take over where he left off with that."

"Somehow," her father said carefully, "I don't think you'll like taking up his work, or what it will entail."

What did he mean by that? "It doesn't matter, because it needs to be done."

"So be it." They went back inside, joining Asa at the table. "I'd like to go with you the first time you go out into the forest, Astrid," he said as if it wasn't important, cutting up the roasted bird. "Just to see."

"Well, we'll have to find it first," Astrid agreed, somewhat reluctant. "Sounds like that's been difficult so far."

"Berk is big," her mother supplied. "And it doesn't help that most of the village believes it's long gone, if it ever existed in the first place."

Well, that made sense. People didn't put much effort into what they believed was pointless. That was part of her personal theory on how the twins and Hiccup had never gained any visible muscle. They didn't think it would happen, so they stopped caring and didn't work for it. Hiccup had done... whatever it was he did, inventions and apparently life-defying risks with animals, and the twins had focused on teamwork in all things, turning two scrappy individuals into one, ideally focused team that could work flawlessly together. Or, at least, that was what they looked like on a good day, which was rare. Most of the time they were no such thing.

"Bring me when you go looking, and I'll be happy," her father concluded, passing over a portion of the bird. Everyone focused on eating instead of talking, the important things already decided.

Later, after eating, Astrid began looking for something. It wasn't important, but she wanted to see something.

"Where's the map?" she eventually asked, unable to find it on her own. Usually, it was on the mantle over the fireplace, but someone had moved it.

"In our room," her mother replied. "Why do you need it?"

"I want to see something." She couldn't be any more specific than that, not knowing what had struck her as important. She would know once she could see it.

"I'll get it." Asa rose from the table and disappeared behind the rickety door blocking the other small bedroom from the rest of the hut. Wherever the map had been, it was obviously close at hand, because the door hadn't even swung shut by the time Asa came back out, a rolled parchment in hand.

"Thanks." Astrid took the map and unrolled it on the floor by the front door, lacking anywhere better for it, as their only table was narrow and long, not nearly wide enough for this. It didn't help that their map was huge. Unlike most Berkians, including Astrid, Asa and Sighvat had traveled in the past.

Astrid looked down at the unraveled parchment, seeking answers. What was so important about this?

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the fog cloud. She _could _mark the nest on here now, right in the center of that cloud, but there was no point. The 'here be dragons' lettering was in the center of the sparsely-depicted cloud anyway; to mark the nest would mean drawing over that. She wasn't going to deface the map like that, not when doing so was no help.

So it wasn't the nest. She let her eyes wander. Over to the South was Berk, of course. Berk was on the forefront of the war because it was the closest inhabited island to the nest. The next closest was the Windy Isle, and then the Outcasts, and from there nobody was anywhere near. Only the roughest, toughest Vikings could stand to live out here. Nobody else was around.

Astrid was drawn to the tiny outline of Berk. She set her left hand on it, and her right on the nest. The map was not perfectly to scale, but it was close…

Two weeks. Now she knew what was bothering her. She traced the path her raft had to have taken, a lightly winding route that circled a little to the West on the way South, over the course of _weeks…_

She should never have made it. There were uninhabited islands off to either side, but the markings on them said she would not have survived washing up there. No other inhabited islands anywhere within reach.

There was no way she was that lucky. Not after all that had happened. The gods were interfering, for her to make it back to Berk at all, let alone alive. And if the gods were taking a specific interest in her…

She didn't know what that meant, and on second thought, she didn't want to find out. Every story she had ever heard about someone the gods started directly helping or hurting taught that trying to subvert or second-guess them usually led to bad things. The correct, honorable course of action was to pretend that she didn't know anything strange was going on. Whatever the gods were aiming for in saving her life, she would do without trying.

"A dangerous, impressive journey," Sighvat commented, looking over from the table. "But you shouldn't think about it too much. Bragging is for people who don't feel comfortable in their achievements."

"I'm not Snotlout," Astrid objected. She hadn't even considered being proud of any of this, let alone bragging. Hoffersons didn't brag. Hoffersons did impressive things and let others notice or ignore as they would. The point was to be noticed without asking for it.

"Speaking of Snotlout," Asa remarked, "he was here yesterday, wanting to see you. I told him to come back when you were conscious."

"You should have told him not to come back at all," Astrid replied. "The last thing I need is for him to think I want him around. As is I have to push the idiot away."

"Well, maybe he'll stop if you ask him..." Her mother winced. "Forget it, this is a Jorgenson."

"Break a few fingers," was her father's input. "Or whatever's within reach, if he doesn't take no for an answer. I'll handle Spitelout if it comes to that."

This was new. Usually, the family rule was 'don't do any damage the average Viking wouldn't be able to laugh about in an hour'. She was not going to question permission to hurt Snotlout if needed. "I promise I won't provoke him specifically so that I have an excuse to use this permission."

"That's all I ask." Sighvat leaned back in his chair.

Asrid looked down at the map, content in the fact that she was home and no longer on the brink of death. Here, nothing had changed.

But she knew that the moment she stepped back into life, things would be different. Hiccup was dead. There was a dragon in the woods, one she had to somehow tame, one she owed a debt to. And... everything else.

She wasn't going to let any of this change her. But the life was going to shift around her, if nothing else. She just had to wait to see how much would stay the same.

_**Author's Note: **_**This is going to be a different kind of story, and one of the major themes is seeing what Hiccup's death does to the dynamics of Berk. Here, we see one of the first, biggest changes. Stoick is mourning, and never saw his son's true colors, so to speak. He was never defied, never challenged, never disappointed by Hiccup revealing in the arena that it was all 'tricks and lies'. Instead, he lost his finally succeeding son, and only hears afterward that something might have been a bit off about it all… And it's **_**Astrid **_**who's **_**asking **_**to work with a dragon, as well as speaking in Stoick's kind of language. So it's not at all implausible that Stoick agrees as he does.**

**Besides, this is far from the most radical change Hiccup's demise is going to bring about on Berk. But I'd rather not spoil the next few chapters or indeed the entire story, so I'm going to shut up now.**


	5. Differences Large and Small

The next morning, Astrid slept in. Not intentionally; she had wanted to be up before daybreak. But it seemed that was too much to ask of herself right now. When she did finally wake up, she went out into the main room of the hut. Her room had no windows of any kind, so she had no idea what time it was.

Certainly not early, she decided, noticing her mother cutting something on the table. It looked like her mother was preparing lunch for her father when he came home, which meant it was well past morning.

"Today is the funeral," her mother remarked quietly, looking up from her work. "Stoick announced that this morning. He had been holding off in hopes of Hiccup returning alive."

Astrid felt vaguely sick. "And you were too, I guess."

Her mother winced, looking distinctly embarrassed. "Well, no, actually."

That got her fully awake. "You held a funeral for me?"

"Once we were sure you had been taken by a dragon, yes. We thought you were dead, and it would have been pointless to wait." Asa shrugged her shoulders. "You're missing one of your better skirts and tunics, by the way."

Because they would have burned _something _in place of a body… "You didn't burn my ax, did you?" That would have been terrible. It was hers, though it wasn't particularly unique. A good, strong weapon with no pointless embellishments. She would hate to have to replace it.

"We never found that."

If they had never found the ax... Astrid remembered where she had dropped it, near the cove. Someone would surely have seen it if they had searched there, but the cove was somewhat well-hidden. That nobody had found it spoke badly of the thoroughness of the search, but she didn't mind that much, given the most effective search in the world would not have found them.

Astrid headed outside, noting with some displeasure that it was cloudy and rainy. A gloomy day for a depressing funeral.

The mood in the village was quiet and subdued. It seemed news that Hiccup was definitely dead, if nothing else, had served to silence most of the village. A steady trickle of villagers moved in the general direction of the docks where the ceremony would be held.

She hung back for a moment, watching them. Then she saw Ruffnut and Tuffnut, walking slightly faster. They were up to something. It seemed not everyone was solemn today.

Good. Normally their antics annoyed her, but she could use a bit of normal today. She fell into step behind them, watching as they subtly scoped out a target for something. The Viking in question was large and solemn, but he didn't seem like he cared too much either way. That was... pretty normal, actually. Hiccup was, to most of the village, an annoyance recently turned celebrity. Weeks of fame couldn't really wipe away years of failure and strangeness, so it made sense people wouldn't really know how to feel about his death, instead opting for the generally oppressive but not particularly sorrowful atmosphere that pervaded the village.

"Why hello there," an annoyingly smug voice remarked from far too close behind her. She turned her head, catching a glimpse of Snotlout, and then continued to watch the twins. Maybe if she didn't acknowledge his existence he'd leave for once. It had never worked before, but she could still hope.

"So..." Snotlout sounded only slightly annoyed, moving to walk right next to her. "Hiccup's gone but you're back. Did you bump him off?"

She definitely didn't feel like ignoring that insinuation, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of an angry reply either. "No, I just got lucky and survived what killed him," she answered in a cold, dangerous tone.

"Hey, I always knew you were the best of... everyone else." He laughed, breaking the oppressive silence quite rudely.

"Better than you, it seems." She glared at him. "He was your cousin. Show some respect." There were things one didn't do. Laughing at the funeral of a cousin counted among those things.

"Oh, I respect that he's gone." Snotlout frowned, momentarily serious. "I respect that. But do you know what that means?" He went back to smiling smugly.

"Yes, it means Stoick will pick another family to pass on the title of chief to, because Odin knows you or your father leading us would get us killed before the first raid." Spitelout was barely competent at following the Chief's orders, and Snotlout looked to be even less effective.

"He's not doing that," Snotlout objected angrily, his hand reaching for Astrid's arm. She jerked away from him, hating that he could probably hold her despite her struggling if it came to that. She really needed to work on rebuilding her strength as soon as possible.

"If he cares about his people, which he does, he will." She was done talking to Snotlout. His ambition was plain, as was his incompetence.

"Okay, let's stop arguing." Snotlout regained his calm, smug tone with only a small moment of frustration. "Let's talk about your ax."

Astrid didn't let on that she suddenly cared very much what Snotlout had to say. "What about it?"

"I found it," he gloated. "You left it on the ground by some weird hollow in the forest. Careless."

"So return it." Hopefully he wouldn't-

"Hey, finders keepers," he continued. "You'll have to buy it off of me."

They were nearing the docks now, so she would need to make this short. "What do you want for it?"

"Well," Snotlout made a show of thinking about it. She would bet that same ax that he had already planned his response to that particular question. "I was hoping a date..."

She whirled and grabbed for his hand. "Really?"

The look of pure joy on his face slowly morphed into dread as he realized she had specifically grabbed his pinky finger and wasn't letting go. "Give it back, or I'll pay you in one of your own fingers." She twisted slightly, hoping her grip at the very least was still strong. "I am not bluffing."

He paled. "Fine, fine, just let go."

"Swear." She wasn't letting him wiggle out of this, physically or metaphorically.

"I swear. Let go!"

She did, conspicuously wiping her hand on her shirt. "Good. I expect it to be dropped off at my house by the end of today."

"Fine!" Snotlout was definitely less confident now, but he also looked angry. At being totally beaten by her? He should be used to it by now.

"You know," a voice interrupted, "never say 'I'm not bluffing.' It just puts the idea into their mind that you _might _be bluffing."

"Tuffnut," Astrid greeted civilly. "And Ruffnut."

"The two and only," Ruffnut agreed, shoving Snotlout out of the way. "So, how does it feel to be the talk of Berk once more?"

"Well, maybe if she was the talk of Berk for a different reason," Tuffnut sniggered. "I'm betting not so great, given why."

That was a surprisingly accurate guess. "I'd rather not focus on myself right now." She glanced at the docks. "This is a time to pay respect, not joke."

"Ever the buzzkill," Ruffnut groaned. "When will you lighten up?"

"When the sun stops shining?" Tuffnut glanced up. "I'm sure it's still up there, somewhere."

It was a cloudy day, true, but Astrid's mind went to her brief trip above the clouds. "It's still there. We just can't see it."

That place, high above everything... it was different up there. A short time of awe, in a world that had so little that could awe her.

"Hello? Astrid?" Ruffnut waved a hand in Astrid's face. "Zoned out there."

"One wonders why," Tuffnut added in what passed for a thoughtful tone of voice with the twins, a smirk that wasn't as carefree as usual. "One also wonders what happened out there."

The crowd grew quiet. It took Astrid a moment to realize that it was because Stoick was beginning the ceremony, not in response to Tuffnut's question. She snapped to attention, not willing to be disrespectful by talking over and therefore ignoring the chief.

"We gather here today to send... Hiccup Haddock the third... on to Valhalla." Stoick did not look well, which was to be expected. He carefully placed a green tunic into the ceremonial funeral ship moored beside him at the dock.

Astrid found herself, despite her intentions of being attentive, drifting off in thought. Her mind kept going to the clouds and the sky. What connection did they have to Hiccup? He had shown all of that to her, in the end, only hours before his death. How would things have gone if he had survived? They would never really know.

She saw, not really registering in her mind, the funeral ship with Hiccup's clothing, some random tunic probably taken from his room, set adrift and lit on fire, Gobber, Stoick, and Spitelout doing the honors.

Hiccup's mother had been taken long ago. She would be here if she was still alive. Stoick had lost everyone. But he was still a strong chief despite that. Maybe loss made him stronger?

No, that was foolish. Loss just gave motivation, and only sometimes. Others, it made people bitter. There were examples of both paths among the Vikings of Berk, most of who had lost someone.

Even her own parents counted. She had never known her older brother, but the fact that he was not around spoke volumes of what had happened, if not in specifics. It was not something she asked about, having decided long ago to wait until they thought she needed to know.

Time passed, and the funeral boat burned, finally sinking beneath the waves, entirely silent, not even the crackling of the fire reaching her ears. It felt wrong for this last memory of Hiccup to go out so quietly, but that was life. His death had been an accident, and that was almost a fitting summary of his life. A series of accidents.

Almost. Because she couldn't honestly say she felt that way. There had to have been more, given the little she had seen. He had tamed a Night Fury. There was more... but probably more no one would ever know.

After the ship was gone, Stoick cleared his voice, regaining the attention of what was probably most, if not all, of Berk.

"I know everyone wants to know what happened." He closed his eyes briefly before continuing. "But the story is a strange one, one I don't think anyone but Hiccup himself knows the full truth of."

Ruffnut shifted, looking over at Astrid. Astrid kept her eyes forward, mentally willing the chief to be brief. This was going to draw so much more attention to her, but it probably had to be said.

"I'm going to be brief," Stoick said in a tight, controlled voice that somehow managed to still be more than loud enough for all to hear. "Hiccup did… something… to a dragon. That dragon is here, on Berk, and I want to find out what can be done with it now. Astrid is on the job, and I want everyone to stay out of the forests of Berk until further notice."

That was a really bad way to break the news, but Stoick was grieving, though that didn't stop Astrid from resenting her chief throwing her to the metaphorical wolves. She felt as if every eye in the crowd had at some point locked onto her.

She continued to stare straight ahead. The chief had approved what she would be doing, so they had no reason to criticize her.

"Why can't we hunt it?" Ruffnut called out.

"It is Astrid's responsibility," Stoick responded woodenly. "She has reason to believe it will listen to her."

Quiet muttering echoed across the assembly, people beginning to realize this was one dragon that was not going to die, allowed to remain on Berk. Stoick hadn't said it straight out, but some of them had to be connecting the dots and figuring out what Astrid was meant to be doing, if not killing it… and they probably weren't going to be happy about that either.

"Oy!" Gobber waved his hook, getting the attention of the village. "We've got something else to do today!"

What else could there be? Astrid felt a wave of gratitude towards the old blacksmith for calling attention away from her.

"With Hiccup gone, and Astrid out of commission," Gobber continued, "nobody's gonna kill that Nightmare and win dragon trainin'. Can't have that, can we?"

Wait, what? She had been runner-up, so why was she..?

She looked down at her clenched fists, noticing the swath of bandaging around her injury, and the general weakness of her entire body aside from that. Maybe she was out of the running after all, for the time being. Not for long, if she could help it, but for now.

"So get to the arena, everybody! Snotlout, Fishlegs, Ruffnut, and Tuffnut, yer all back in tha' runnin'!" Gobber waved aimlessly with his hook. "Go on, get movin'! What better way to celebrate Hiccup's passin' then with picking someone to stand in for him as victor in dragon trainin'?"

There was a ragged cheer, and the crowd began slowly moving towards the arena on the far side of the village, a few small cheers and chants being taken up as they moved.

Astrid moved with them, trying to blend in. She was not successful.

"A dragon in the woods with yer name on it?" someone asked spitefully, elbowing her from the side. "Gonna keep the glory all to yerself?"

She spun, but where the elbow had come from was occupied by two large men taking turns punching each other in the face to get riled up. As the voice had been a woman, they were not responsible.

This was a new sensation, one she did not at all like. She felt like a target, and what was more, a deserving target. She was not doing anything wrong, but it would seem wrong to those who did not consider the fact that exceptions could be made for the right reasons...

What were the right reasons? She moved out of the possibly hostile crowd, falling back.

That question lingered. What was she doing? Sure, from her angle it was obvious. She owed that dragon, and making it useful to the village meant keeping it safe. She was discharging her debt.

Why was Stoick letting her do it? He wanted to see what she could do with a possibly agreeable dragon, but what was the end goal? How did he see this helping the village?

Maybe... maybe he didn't. Maybe he was doing it because it had been Hiccup's dragon, or because she had asked. Maybe he was just acting at random, torn by grief. He didn't let it show, but nobody was stupid enough to think that it was not there if they could not see it.

She was acting with his permission, or would be... but it wasn't really for the good of the village. So she deserved the scorn some people might have for her now.

That was new. She had never deserved to be resented before, and didn't like it now. But her honor meant she wasn't about to do anything differently. This would just have to be endured.

Most of the crowd had passed. She stood alone in the street.

"Come on, Astrid. Ye can watch from the gateway." Gobber sighed heavily, stumping along behind the crowd, passing her. "Eh, this all stinks, but life goes on."

She had never heard him that... defeated. It made her skin crawl. But, again, this was a day for such feelings. "Why did you have to do this today?" She caught up to him, intent on her question. "It doesn't feel like we're celebrating him, it feels like we're replacing him, at least in the arena."

"He was the symbol of Berk for a few weeks, Astrid." Gobber grimaced. "I don' know if ye can stand hearin' that, but it's true. He was suddenly the best o' the next generation. We need someone new ta look to, and ye aren't it anymore."

That hurt. "I am still the same person as before."

"No, yer not." Gobber shook his head. "Lass, I dunno what happened out there. Stoick didn't tell me much more than what he told the village. But ye are different, and everyone can see it." He gestured at her with his good hand. "Ye look different, and ye volunteered to do something no Viking would do voluntarily. Workin' with the enemy."

"Hiccup did," Astrid retorted quietly, not wanting to be overheard arguing with Gobber. "And he was the 'pride of Berk,' apparently. Why is this any worse?"

"They didn't know what he was doing," Gobber muttered. "But you, they know about. It's unnatural."

"_It_ saved my life multiple times, Gobber." Astrid didn't mind her teacher knowing that. "Whatever Hiccup did to this particular dragon, it's worth saving. I don't know if I could ever redo what Hiccup did, but I can use it."

"And ye might end up like me or dead if you try," Gobber shot back, waving his hook in front of her to make his point. "Dragons are wild beasts tha' kill for fun."

"This one doesn't." She wasn't sure why she wanted to convince Gobber, but she did. He was a teacher, someone she respected. "It kept me alive."

"Ye talk like it did all the work." Gobber shrugged. "I saw the raft. Still have it, actually. Nobody else wanted it. It's in me shop."

"Did you see the sail?" She wanted to make a point. "Not mine."

"Hiccup's..." He knew that much, clearly. "But wha' was it?"

"The dragon's tail," Astrid revealed, climbing up the steps leading to the arena, Gobber right behind her. "It let the dragon fly if there was someone who knew how to use it. He did."

"He flew it?" Gobber asked, a hint of shock breaking through his gruff, solemn demeanor. "'Ow did-"

"I don't _know_," she stressed in frustration, "but he did. And now it hides in the forest, not leaving because it can't go anywhere."

"That would explain a bit," Gobber realized, his voice suddenly understanding. "What kind of dragon is it, anyway? A small one, I hope, for yer sake."

"It's the one he claimed to have shot down." She would let Gobber connect the dots.

"Did it look like an unholy offspring of lightnin' and death itself?" Gobber asked skeptically. They were nearing the arena now, and she could already hear the crowd getting into the upcoming event in earnest.

"It isn't like anything in the book, so it has to be one, but no, not really." Thinking about it objectively... "It's not really that much of a dragon, to be honest. No spikes, no horns, smooth scales that are actually pretty soft."

They walked into the preparation tunnel that led to the interior of the arena, a shaded stone path lined with unlit torches. Gobber stopped and gave her an odd look. "Soft? 'Ow would ye know that?"

"I spent a few weeks within arms reach of it, Gobber." She spoke quietly, not wanting anyone nearby to hear. "Its head was pretty much my pillow near the end, I was so out of it."

"Tha's a new one, even for me." He scratched his small mustache. "Still, dyin' Vikings do odd things. Soft scales. Doesn' sound like a," he paused and looked around, lowering his voice, "Night Fury."

She understood his reluctance to speak the name. If anyone heard what they thought might be the identity of the dragon in the woods, the entire village would go after it, totally breaking Stoick's authority. Neither of them wanted that.

"I don't really care what it is, I care about how it acts." She was getting back to the point, and none too soon, as Fishlegs had just rounded the corner, nervously hefting a small hammer. He was almost within hearing range. "If I can get it to listen to me, to obey me..."

"Aye, that would be... interestin'." Gobber grimaced as the crowd grew louder, Vikings calling for the show to get started. "Ye gonna stay down here?"

"Why not?" She leaned against the wall, wishing she had her ax. "If Snotlout is killed, I want to be sure his dying words are telling me where my ax is." Sure, they would be separated by the iron bars of the inner gateway, but she would be much closer than the spectator seating carved into the stone around and above the chain-net dome.

"He has it?" Gobber looked genuinely surprised by that.

"Not for long." As she spoke, Snotlout and the twins spun into view, mock-fighting to get warmed up... or just because one of them had annoyed the others, a common occurrence. "I get my ax, or a few of his fingers get set free of his hands."

"Why would ye want those?" Gobber shuddered dramatically. "No tellin' where that one's fingers have been. Best to stay at arm's length. Same with his father, Spitelout. Ye don't wanna know what we caught him doin' one day when we were kids. He was-"

Astrid raised a hand, urgently cutting Gobber off. "You were right. I don't want to know."

"Aye, right." Gobber made his way out to the inner gateway, raising the iron bars with the lever set into the wall, and shooed the teens out. Once they were all in the arena he closed the gate, locking them in, and heading up to where the cages could be opened.

Astrid moved over to the bars, looking out into the arena from a safe distance. She didn't want to be shot at by whatever dragon was going to be set upon the teens. As she was, she might not even be able to get out of the way in time. It would be humiliating to die to an errant blast after all she had survived.

Fishlegs was standing closest to the bars, while Ruffnut and Tuffnut were standing back to back in the center of the arena. All three looked extremely nervous.

That actually gave Astrid pause. She expected nothing more from Fishlegs, but since when had the twins ever been nervous about anything?

Then again, it wasn't like they had expected to be here. No time to prepare, coming off of a reminder that this was no game; that dragons could and did kill even the best of them. Of course, they were a little shaken. Not a lot, because they were Vikings, but a little.

And where was Snotlout? He was over at the far side of the arena, spinning-

She felt her fists clench entirely involuntarily. He was spinning an ax. _Her_ ax. Had he run all the way home to get it in time? Quite a bit of effort to mock her...

He caught her eye, noticing her rage, and smiled mockingly, waving the ax.

He was going to lose at least one finger after this. If he was lucky, she would stop at one. And if he broke her ax, she would break him. She certainly valued that ax more than she valued him. To be brutally honest, she valued the dragon lurking in the woods more than she valued him, and she would let that dragon die if it did something stupid like attacking the village. At least the dragon had proven itself useful in the past.

"Oy, you four ready?" Gobber called down from his little spectator box above the cage doors. His hand hovered over several different levers, moving at random between them. Each one would release a different dragon.

The Nightmare's cage, on the far right, was the only one Gobber's hand did not consider, avoiding that lever entirely. That dragon was for the final test. The one Hiccup would have had to take, despite his apparent issues with killing dragons.

As Gobber made a big deal over announcing each of the possible antagonists for this impromptu test, Astrid wondered what Hiccup would have done, had he survived. Something told her he wouldn't have wanted to kill the dragon.

Why? She wasn't sure. She had been certain of it though, in the moment.

Well, he had a pet dragon. Maybe he saw things she didn't. But the one he had was different. None of the arena dragons would have done what it did. Then again, was how it acted a result of Hiccup being... well, Hiccup, or was it how that particular dragon was to start with?

Were they wrong to fight and kill dragons at all? It was clear to Astrid, having seen how the Queen monstrosity operated, that the dragons weren't exactly willing participants in raiding.

But they fought here, and fought viciously. Here, fighting and potentially killing dragons was self-defense from the moment Gobber opened the cage...

Gobber and others were the ones making it self-defense by opening the cages, and by filling them in the first place. So that when raids happened, those who were forced to fight in self-defense now knew enough to do it again.

It all wrapped back around to that monster at the nest. It was the cause of all of this, and until it died they had to treat the dragons as enemies and give no mercy, because they would receive none in turn.

She had received mercy and was planning on giving it in the only way she knew how, all with one specific dragon. Did that make her a traitor? No, because for whatever reason, the chief was going to allow it.

That was an _exception_, though. Maybe Hiccup wouldn't have seen it that way, but he was already way out there in how he saw and did things. She could not even contemplate trying to change things before the monster at the nest was dealt with. Until then, dragons would die, because the alternative was Vikings dying. Not acceptable.

Dragons were still enemies. She just happened to have one who had somehow ended up not hostile. An exception, a neutral party in what had been a war with no neutral parties.

Killing and fighting dragons was acceptable, a result of the war. She was not going to stand in the way of that. It needed to be done until the war was over, and probably after, until the dragons learned to avoid Berk.

A loud slamming sound brought Astrid back to reality, away from her thoughts and into the present. The present where Snotlout, Fishlegs, and the twins were fighting a Nadder.

How much had she missed? It wasn't like her to fall into thought and miss what was going on around her. That was a terrible weakness for a warrior.

She focused on the fight at hand, resolving not to drift off into thought again. Besides, this was actually interesting, even if she couldn't participate.

At the moment, the Nadder was running around the ring, chasing Snotlout. The fact that he was running from it meant it had already gotten a few good hits in. Of all the things to miss. She would have liked to have seen that.

Ruffnut threw her spear at the Nadder, distracting it. Snotlout scrambled behind one of the scattered barriers around the edges of the ring, shoving Fishlegs out into view.

The Nadder jerked the spear out of its side with an angry squawk, rushing Ruffnut, who was defenseless-

Unless one counted her brother, who leaped out from behind a barrier and slammed a mace upside the Nadder's head.

There was a moment of silence as the Nadder stopped, wobbling on its taloned feet. Tuffnut stood at the ready, his mace hefted, preparing to-

The Nadder swung one of its wings out, knocking Tuffnut off of his feet and sending his mace flying.

Astrid found herself gripping the bars separating her and the fight, hating that she wasn't out there. Her peers were in trouble, and they wouldn't be if she was there!

But it seemed Snotlout and Fishlegs had it covered, charging and slamming into the Nadder from the side, knocking it away from the twins.

Astrid, watching as Snotlout and Fishlegs kept the Nadder at bay, heard an odd sound. Arguing. It sounded like the twins were fighting. Now was not the time for that!

Fishlegs got kicked even as Astrid realized what she was hearing, propelled by the strong leg into and through a wooden barrier. The crowd gasped in some semblance of sympathy, a rare Viking trait usually reserved for watching others fight a common enemy. He was out of this.

Snotlout lasted a bit longer, swinging Astrid's ax with more energy than skill, cockily taunting the Nadder, but he was being too aggressive, getting too close.

Then it happened. The unthinkable, at least for Astrid. The Nadder snapped at Snotlout just as he swung, missing his arm and receiving a fist to the eye in retaliation. It hopped back, enraged, and blasted him.

Nadder fire was the hottest kind of dragon fire, a flare so bright it hurt to look at. It could melt metal in an instant.

And it did, because Snotlout had used her ax as an impromptu shield, turning it sideways to take the blast instead of his face. The instant the flaring stream of fire dissipated he dropped the mostly-molten hunk of metal and charred wood to the ground, his hands burned and his face desperate.

Then Ruffnut reentered the fray, swinging her brother's mace and yelling wordlessly, accompanied by the loud cheering of the Vikings in the stands. There wasn't much skill involved here either, but she more than made up for it with her frenetic energy, forcing the Nadder back through intimidation as much as actually attacking. The Nadder didn't try to blast her as it had with Snotlout, hopping back and tilting its head as if confused.

Then Ruffnut got in a lucky hit, and the confusion turned into a squawk of pain. Blood ran down the Nadder's bird-like beak as it stumbled.

But Ruffnut wasn't done. She took advantage of the moment of shock to smash the Nadder's left leg, an audible crack resounding through the arena. The Nadder toppled with a shriek.

"Oy, leave it alive!" Gobber clambered down into the arena through the bars, dropping the last few feet. "We can use it for the next batch o' trainees. This fight is over."

Ruffnut backed away, breathing heavily. She looked up to the cheering crowd and raised the mace her brother had brought into the arena proudly, grinning all the while.

Where was Tuffnut? Astrid pulled her eyes away from the moaning Nadder and triumphant twin to find the other teens. Fishlegs was pulling himself out of the wooden barricade he had been thrown through, looking relieved that the fight was over. Snotlout was standing a few feet away, shaking his arms, looking distinctly aggravated and disappointed. There were shards of half-melted metal on his helmet, and smoking bits of wood around him, along with more metal.

Tuffnut. Where was Tuffnut? There he was, in the far corner of the arena, his face unreadable. Odd. She would have expected him to be happy. The twins worked together on everything, and Ruffnut had ended the fight, saving Snotlout's sorry behind in the process.

"Get over 'ere," Gobber yelled, having just herded the subdued and whining Nadder back into its pen and locked the door. "Time for the Elder to decide. And shut up, the lot of ye!" He yelled at the crowd. "Ye can cheer once ye know who to cheer for!"

By degrees the crowd quieted, and the four trainees gathered in the center of the ring by Gobber.

Gobber held his hook over Fishlegs' head. "Elder?"

Gothi hobbled out of the crowd to stand at the front of the stands, and shook her head decisively. That was no surprise.

Next was Snotlout. Another negative dismissal. Snotlout didn't object, though he scowled at nothing in particular.

Then Gobber held both his hook and his hand over the twins. "What abou' them?"

That was about what Astrid had expected. The twins worked as a unit. It was practical to consider them as one for all of this.

"Hey, wait." Tuffnut stepped away, out from under Gobber's hand, scowling angrily. "Do us one at a time."

"What?" both Ruffnut and Gobber asked in unison. The crowd muttered uncertainly.

"You heard me." Tuffnut took another step away from his sister, moving to Gobber's other side. "And do her first."

"Bu'..." Gobber took in Tuffnut's uncharacteristically determined face. "Fine." He held up a hand over Ruffnut's head. "Elder?"

Gothi was staring at Tuffnut, and it took her a moment to react. But when she did, her response was clear. A nod. Ruffnut was the winner of dragon training.

Gobber half-heartedly held his hand over Tuffnut, but Tuffnut pushed it away. "There's only one winner, Gobber. If we did ties, Astrid and Hiccup would have tied. _I_ lost."

This was all so out of character for Tuffnut that there was initially no cheering for Ruffnut. Nobody had ever seen either of the twins voluntarily lose _anything_, let alone losing to their counterpart when everyone was willing to let them win together. It made no sense.

It made no sense... but they were Vikings, so after the initial confusion wore off, people began cheering for Ruffnut, the winner of dragon training. The one who would kill the Monstrous Nightmare as her final test... alone.

This was definitely not a change Astrid had been expecting, and it didn't even seem connected to all that had happened recently. It felt abrupt, forced, unexpected. Why could nothing remain the same? Her life was changing enough as it was without everyone around her changing too.

Her hair was gone. Her chance at success in dragon training was gone. Her strength was gone.

And, now it was sinking in that her ax was gone. Her eyes were drawn to the cooling fragments of her favorite weapon, the tool she had been sure she would carry into battle for years to come. Plain, unadorned, but sharp and practical. Like her. It was gone.

It felt like losing another small piece of herself.


	6. Old Things Break

Astrid's ax was gone, and Ruffnut was the winner of dragon training. Forget the dragon out there somewhere with her name on it, today was strange enough on its own.

Strange and terrible. Astrid clenched her fists, shaking with anger. She'd like nothing better than to beat Snotlout to a bloody pulp right about now. He had taken her ax into the arena as a taunt, and now it was gone.

The cheering of the crowds above her in the stands seemed to mock her as she stewed, waiting for the Gobber to open the gate and let her target out of the arena. She was going to do something to Snotlout, though she hadn't decided what yet, and for that she needed to be able to get at him.

Gobber eventually came down into the passageway, headed for the lever that was just out of her reach. Then he got a good look at her and stopped.

"Ye know I cannae let ye kill 'im," Gobber drawled. "So mebbe calm down a bit?"

"He'll wish he had let the Nadder kill him before I'm done," she gritted angrily.

"Ye would have done the same," Gobber chastised. "Don' glare a' me, it's true."

"I wouldn't have been in that position to begin with," she countered, glaring out at Snotlout, who wasn't looking her direction, busy arguing with Fishlegs about something. "It's his fault."

"Alrighty, then. Kill 'im. If ye can," Gobber agreed, his tone deceptively jovial. "Ye've already got a raft, so we can exile ye today."

"Exile." She repeated it as if it was ludicrous, but really he was right. A life for an ax was far too much, especially when it was technically just bad luck it had even been destroyed. She would be lucky if her punishment was exile.

"Aye, and somethin' tells me ye'd not like that," Gobber asserted. "Or, you can yell yer lungs out, let him escape with an intact hide, and I can make a replacement ax. I'll even try and get some o' the melted bits from the arena floor to put inta it, so it's still partly yer old ax. Sound better?"

"Yes, please," she agreed, forcing herself to listen to reason. "And thank you. You don't have to go to the effort of-"

"I'm gonna anyway," he interjected. "Usually it wouldn't be me, it'd be Hiccup, but he's gone, so I'll fix yer ax." With that, he moved over and pulled the lever, effectively ending the conversation.

"What took so long?" Snotlout asked rudely, walking through the open gate without a care in the world.

"I had ta make sure ye'd survive first, blockhead." Gobber crossed his arms. "Can't let my idiot trainee get killed because he taunted the wrong person."

"Oh, right." Snotlout suddenly looked a little less confident... but that didn't last. He gestured dismissively at Astrid. "Guess you're not getting it back."

Was he seriously that calm about it? She wanted to break his smug face-

He laughed. "I'd be a little more worried if you weren't so scrawny now."

"Hey, show some respect," Tuffnut said, punching Snotlout as he walked past. "At least she's still here. I bet you'd have died with Hiccup." He sounded totally serious. More out of character behavior from that half of the twins. Their taunts were never that serious, more ludicrous than direct.

"No I wouldn't have!" Snotlout retorted angrily. "And we don't even know how he died. I'm sure anyone more Vikingly would have made it out."

"Hmm," Tuffnut countered, "I seem to remember you praising his skill in the arena a few weeks ago. Second to none but yourself, you said. Where's that praise now? Or do you only speak ill of the dead?"

Astrid blinked, totally nonplussed. Tuffnut had taken the fight right out of her hands with a few biting remarks, sounding entirely serious. Her anger was not gone, but she pushed it aside. This was too strange to ignore. Gobber and the other teens seemed to be thinking the same thing, watching but not interfering.

"That was before I knew he was cheating," Snotlout shouted. "You heard Stoick. He did something to a dragon that wasn't killing it. No real Viking does that!"

"No real Viking ever survived something like that, you mean." Tuffnut wasn't backing down. "That doesn't matter. We don't know how he died." He looked over at Astrid. "Maybe someone could tell us?"

Did he really want to know? She hadn't told Stoick much at all, and blurting it out now would be disrespectful... but she wanted to see what Tuffnut would do with the information. "He fell into a volcano," she revealed, skimping as much as possible on the details. "We both did. I got lucky."

"See?" Tuffnut asked, only a little put off by that information, forging ahead anyway. "Tell me, how much muscle makes you fireproof?"

"I... You... shut up!" Snotlout stuttered, entirely unable to counter that. "Why are we talking about Hiccup?"

Tuffnut smirked at that. "I don't know, you brought him up. Too stupid to remember your own point?"

Snotlout scowled and swung at Tuffnut, enraged beyond reason-

Only to be stopped by Gobber, who grabbed his arm from behind. "Start a fight here, and I'll make ye clean the pens for a month. Yer still my trainee until the official end of trainin', so ye can figh' on yer own time."

Snotlout deflated, pulling away from Gobber. "I'll deal with you later," he asserted, glaring at Tuffnut. Then he left, walking quickly out of sight.

The rest of them stood in silence for a moment.

Fishlegs ended up being the one to sum up what they all, or at least Astrid, were thinking. "Why is everyone acting crazy today?"

"As the leading authority on all things crazy," Ruffnut quipped, sounding like her heart wasn't really in it, "I have no idea."

Tuffnut huffed, leaving without a word.

"See? I don't get it at all," Ruffnut complained. "We could have won together."

"Ye always do," Gobber agreed. "'Ave you two had any arguments recently?"

"No!" Ruffnut exclaimed. "Nothing changed!"

"Well, good luck on that one." Gobber absently tightened his hook hand, twisting the hook attachment into the wooden base. "I'll come tell ye when Stoick sets a date for the final exam."

"If I get Tuffnut to agree, can he be there too?" Ruffnut asked forlornly. "You were going to let us work together before this..."

"Nay, the Elder picked you, and only you. He'll have to watch like everyone else. Sorry, lass."

With that, Astrid turned to leave. There was no more to be said there. It was only a small comfort to know she wasn't the only one wondering why the world had gone insane today.

She walked out through the end of the tunnel and into the faint light. It was still cloudy, but she thought it might be about noon. Time to go home, eat something, and figure out what she was going to do with the rest of her day-

"Astrid."

She did not jump, but her reflexes would not be ignored, and she spun, a hand going to where her ax should be. "Tuffnut."

He nodded seriously, lingering in a shadow by the exit to the arena. "Be careful. You may not feel different, but Snotlout doesn't see danger when he looks at you. I'm not always going to be around to distract him."

She didn't like what he was implying. "I can still kick him halfway across the island if I try hard enough." It would take more kicks than it should, but still.

"He doesn't believe you can," was Tuffnut's reply. "I'm just saying regain your strength, or find some other protection, as fast as you can."

Now he was implying something about Snotlout, something Astrid didn't really want to believe. "He still has some sorry excuse for honor," she objected.

"Does he?" Tuffnut shrugged. "And does that honor extend to how he treats a traitor?"

"I'm not-"

"Again, what matters is what he thinks, not the truth." Throughout all of this, Tuffnut had been more serious than Astrid had ever seen him. It was downright unnerving, just as his fight with Snotlout had been. She did not for a second think this was some prank.

"Okay." A serious warning could not be ignored, even if she didn't believe Snotlout was anything but talk. "I'll be fine."

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to avoid my sister," he muttered, looking around furtively.

"What in the world is going on with you two?" She might as well ask, if he was in a mood to give straight, serious answers.

"Things change," was his reply. "Maybe I don't want to be half of a whole anymore."

So much for a straight answer. She left him there, skulking in the shadows, and headed home.

Her father and mother weren't back yet, probably stuck in the slow-moving crowds exiting the arena. Really, that place was a choke point waiting to happen. It was a good thing the dragons never attacked in the day, and that arena-related events were never held night. It would be a fiery slaughter if the two ever coincided, and the dragons would not be the ones dying.

Dragons. Her mind went to the dragon waiting for her in the woods, even as she picked up one of her spare practice axes from her room. It only had one blade and was a little off-balance, but she kept it sharp. It would do to protect her from...

Well, not the dragon, hopefully. She shouldn't need an ax for that, though she would of course keep one on her at all times anyway.

Maybe she would need it to handle Snotlout? She still didn't want to think quite that badly of him, despite Tuffnut's warning, but the possibility could not be ignored. He was angered and confident, along with possibly now feeling superior to her for whatever stupid reason his ego could come up with.

Whatever. She'd deal with that if it became a problem. There was no point in worrying about it.

A door slammed shut. One or both of her parents were home.

"Astrid?" Ah, so it was her father.

"In my room," she called back. After a moment, she exited her room and found him in the main area of the house, cutting a stout loaf of bread.

"I was thinking," he began. "You want to go after that dragon today?"

Actually, she did. It would be a good way to use up the rest of the day. "Yes. Let's see if we can find it." First, she needed to let it know she was still alive, and still not intending to attack. Hopefully that peaceful truce they had held on the way back still existed for her to work with... and if not, her father would make sure her misjudging of the situation wouldn't be a fatal mistake, though she thought that turn of events unlikely.

"Got it." He quickly grabbed a small satchel and dropped the bread and cheese into it, slinging it over his shoulder with ease. "Your mother already knows we're going. She said she's going to join the Ingermans and a few other families in helping Stoick today."

Astrid was suddenly immensely grateful her father had chosen to suggest they do this instead of sending her to help her mother. She had done that kind of thing before, and puttering around some mourning Viking's hut, tidying up and offering sympathy, was not at all what she wanted to spend any time doing. Least of all when she was so intertwined in why Stoick was mourning. If her mother enjoyed it that was fine, but it wasn't something she ever wanted to do.

"Anything else we need to bring?" she asked, grabbing two full water bladders from beside the door. They were oddly heavy, but she reluctantly attributed that to her own weakened state.

"As long as you don't plan on us spending the night out there, I think we're good," he replied, sliding his sword back into its scabbard on his belt. "And if it starts storming, no preparation will help us."

She knew what he meant. Storms on Berk, at least at this time of year, were violent and fast. They'd be drenched, but it would be over in an hour or so, leaving them with a long and wet walk home. An acceptable risk.

She and her father left the hut, walking through the village towards the forest. She let him lead the way, assuming he knew vaguely where they were going to start looking.

So she was a little surprised when he stopped at the edge of the forest and turned to her. "Well? Any ideas?"

She stared at him. "I assumed you had some."

"I asked around, but nobody has seen so much as a glimpse of a dragon on Berk recently, let alone this one. You know as much as anyone does about where it might be."

Great. Berk wasn't massive, as islands went, but it definitely wasn't small, and most of it was untamed wilderness, which made it much harder to navigate. There was no way they could cover it all in half a day. This would be a shot in the dark, with very little chance of actually finding the dragon.

But that was fine, really. She needed to start somewhere, and they could rule out a chunk of the island today. Actually finding it would probably take several more trips, but this was a start.

"Let's go... that way." She pointed towards the coast, which was an easier walk than through the heart of the island. "We can sweep around from that side, not walking the beach, just staying close to it."

"Any reason as to why?" her father asked, obligingly heading in that direction.

"It's smart, and the village is close," she said in way of answer. "It will want to get away from the village, and it can swim. We might find where it came to shore if we're lucky."

"Good reasoning, and it hasn't rained since you and the dragon floated into Berk's waters, so there is a chance there will still be tracks."

She hadn't thought about that. "Actually, I meant tracks from it going into the water for fish."

"Does it eat fish?" her father asked, sidestepping a thick cluster of bushes.

Well... "It didn't eat me, and that's all I really know, but it makes sense. Hiccup had to be feeding it something, and he's no hunter."

"Why did he have to be feeding it?" A dubious question followed by a muted thud, as he dropped off of a small overhang. "Couldn't it hunt for itself?"

"It was stuck in that hollow I found them in," she explained. "I know it couldn't fly without Hiccup, and it was waiting for him there. I doubt Hiccup would go to the trouble meeting it so far from Berk if the dragon could go where it pleased."

"A cage," her father mused. "The Viking I knew who trained dogs kept some in cages, but some he would let roam free. He said it depended on what kind of dog it was."

That wasn't very helpful. "Did he have any more specific advice?"

"Now, keep in mind he was quite the stickler for rules and obedience," her father cautioned. "But yes, he did. I'm not sure how well they'll translate to training dragons."

"What could go wrong?" she asked flippantly, beginning to breathe heavily through exertion. This was far too soon into their trek to be running out of breath; she was far too weak.

Their conversation was interrupted by a large gorge carved seemingly at random out of the ground in front of them. Astrid considered it, noting that it seemed to go on into the forest with no end in both directions, and then considered her own reduced strength. She decided to look for a fallen tree rather than risk jumping it. Her father followed her without asking why they weren't crossing there.

Luckily, there was such a tree not far down from where they had run into the gorge. She crept across on her hands and knees, a water bag dangling from either shoulder. Her muscles ached by the time she was safely across, but she had made it.

Her father crossed after her, moving far quicker than she had. "What could go wrong?" he asked, picking up where they had left off. "No offense to you, but when I picture some of the methods he described, and then put you in his place, as well as putting a dragon in the place of his dogs... it doesn't look promising."

"Give me an example," she requested.

"Show them you're in charge," he recited from memory. "Take no back-bark. Slap it every time it defies you."

Astrid shrugged. "I could see that working," with the condition that the dragon was as peaceful as it had to be to obey Hiccup. He couldn't possibly have used force, so her using it would likely be more than enough. "We'll see. Also, back-bark?"

"He was eccentric," her father admitted. "It probably didn't help that his dogs dropped like burning flies during every raid."

"Dragons burned them?" She wasn't surprised-

"Viking raid, not dragon. The raiders liked fire arrows, and his dogs were good targets for causing chaos," was the reply.

She hadn't known the village her parents came from had suffered from a more traditional type of raider. That was interesting. Maybe they had moved because their village had finally beaten back the raiders and become peaceful.

Or maybe their village had been destroyed, forcing them to move. That would be more likely, given the brother nobody ever talked about. He might have died in the process.

But speculation was pointless. She forged ahead, slightly proud to be leading her own father into the wilderness, though she knew he would take over the moment things became dangerous. It was basic logic. She was, for the time being, a noncombatant, as signified, more than anything, by her lack of any weapon whatsoever.

They continued to work their way further from the village, now moving parallel to the beach, which was visible through the trees to their left. Audible too, rushing waves.

Actually... "If we want to find tracks, we should walk along the beach after all," she said.

"Fine by me." Her father hefted his satchel. "Maybe some lunch in a few minutes?"

Somehow, despite not eating since the morning, she wasn't that hungry. But she needed to keep her strength up, now more than ever. "Sure."

They turned to the left, breaking through the entangling shrubbery to reach the beach, a stretch of white sand here. Other parts of the island were pure cliff where they met the water, sometimes hundreds of feet above the water's surface, but this part of Berk was a pleasant, sandy slope into the endless abyss.

The endless abyss. She shivered, not wanting to look out to sea. Those flashing lights and the knowledge that she had been utterly helpless, drifting above an unknown void, still did not sit well with her. The depths unnerved her now.

"Astrid?" Her father came to stand beside her, staring out to sea. "You want to stop here?"

She shrugged, trying to throw off the baseless unease. "Sure, here." Maybe if she stared out into the ocean long enough, it would go away.

But even as she and her father sat down in the sand and broke out the bread and cheese, she felt no better. Looking directly at the depths was pointless, but she felt like she was turning her back on a dark cave whenever she took her eyes off of the water.

It didn't take her father long to notice her issue. "Is there something in the water?" He turned to follow her gaze.

She shook her head. "Not now."

"I missed it?"

She would have to explain. "No, when I was out at sea on the raft."

That got him on the right train of thought, at least. "What did you see?"

"Flashing lights in the distant depths, for hours on end." Like a sunken village still populated, or dragons flaming underwater. "I don't know what they were."

"Ah, sea-lights," he replied sagely. "Sailors report seeing them for days at a time, sometimes. They follow ships, or ignore them, seemingly at random. There are even a few stories of them attacking."

She shivered uncomfortably. "These were the ignoring kind, but..."

"Can't get them out of your mind?" He shrugged. "That happens sometimes. The unknown is far scarier than anything we know about. Even more so when it lives so deep in the water, because we can't go down and find out what it is. We have to wait and see if it will show itself."

"I'd be happy to just stop thinking about it," she muttered, even more unsettled. "Or to forget entirely."

"At least you have that option," he remarked. "But we are Vikings, and this is an archipelago, so you can't avoid the water forever. You'll probably see them again on some other voyage in the future."

"Not if I don't leave Berk," she countered. "This is home. Why would I leave?"

"You never know, and I can think of at least one reason right now."

"What?" She was curious now.

"Well..." He shrugged, clearly changing what he was going to say. "Other islands have other people, and you are fast approaching a certain age."

Oh, _that_. She frowned. "I don't want to marry anyone. I'm a warrior." That was the only reason the immensely slim pickings on Berk didn't bother her. She had plans for the rest of her life, and they did not involve being tied down by marriage.

They also hadn't involved a dragon, but she had no choice there, and no idea how that situation would end. As it was, she was not forced by honor to marry anyone, and as long as she kept her parents on her side, that would not be an issue.

That her parents could choose a husband for her and basically force her into a marriage was worrying, but it was just how Viking culture worked, and she knew her father well enough to know that he wouldn't do that without at least sounding her out first.

"The two are not exclusive," he objected, his voice betraying that he knew she didn't care. "And what if Berk runs out of things to fight? You'd have to leave, or be very, very bored."

She had seen the nest. Killing that monstrosity that controlled the dragons would probably be the work of a lifetime. "Somehow, I don't think that will be an issue."

With that, they finished eating, sitting in silence for a while. She liked that. Other Vikings would brag, or try to one-up each other. Her family was content with silence. No wasted breath, no pointless conversation.

Even what they had just spoken of had a purpose, for instance, and she figured out what it was once they had continued walking. Her mind had been totally taken off of what might be lurking in the depths.

She glanced out to sea once more, on the off chance she might see something, but there was nothing there.

They walked for a few more hours, making it to the far edge of the island, following the beach as far as possible before being forced up, in some places climbing broken-down cliffsides for short distances. She had to stop far too often on those stretches. Through experimentation, she determined that pretty much the only thing she still retained from all her years of training was reflex and grip strength. Her muscles were weak, and she ran out of breath almost instantly, at least compared to how she had been before.

That would be corrected eventually. Every time she ran out of breath and had to stop, she resolved anew to begin training the very next morning.

And then there was her arm, which was still bandaged. It ached fiercely every time she tried to use it, but the important thing was that she _could _use it at all. The pain would go away as she healed, so it didn't matter.

She was used to thinking about herself that way; it was how she kept up with people like Snotlout. They did not train, or wasted their time working on things that did not need improving. By actually thinking and planning her training routines, she kept ahead.

Though even that might not be enough to overcome this massive setback...

No. She would not let Snotlout be faster than her, or able to fight for longer than she could. Strength he had, but the rest was hers among the people of their age group. She would take it back.

All in all, her thoughts were strategic and determined, and she wasn't paying much attention to the other purpose of this excursion; looking for signs of the dragon.

It was a good thing her father had come along, because she might have missed it.

"Astrid, stop." His voice was calm, but stern. She froze, looking around. They were on a cliff, among what looked like an old landslide. Treacherous terrain, but where she was standing was safe.

"Smell that?" he asked, waiting for a response.

Smell..? She inhaled, trying to discern-

Rot. Distant, but not that distant. Carrion, something dead. And Berk had no native predators, probably thanks to Vikings culling anything dangerous that actually lived there, as opposed to raiding from a safe place. What had killed the origin of the scent?

After discerning which way the wind was coming from, they crept in the direction of the smell. No more words; no more unnecessary noises. This particular dragon might not be dangerous, but that was no reason to let down their guard... and it was always possible this was not the work of their target.

Closer and closer, slowly but steadily advancing. Eventually, her father, now in the lead, stopped. She stopped behind him, waiting until he motioned for her to come up beside him and look for herself.

A dead boar, a large one. It had been torn apart, and most of the edible parts were gone. The head, oddly enough given what had probably eaten it, was entirely intact, and now feeding a variety of bugs. It stunk, as one would expect, but from the looks of it was less than two days old. More or less fresh.

She scanned the area immediately around the remains, looking for tracks, but there was absolutely nothing.

Or... nothing she knew to be important. Her father clearly saw something, leading her away from the boar. They went further into the woods.

She could not ask him what she had missed, so she puzzled over it even as her eyes flicked from one side to the other, straining for a glimpse of black among the tumult of green and brown. She had no idea whether or not it was around, but it had been here at some point, which was more than she could say for the rest of the ground covered in getting here.

Another stop, this time abrupt. She froze, knowing this might be important. Were they being watched?

Then he kept moving. A false alarm. Her father was jumpy.

Well, that was fair enough. They were hunting a hunter, and it might not be as friendly as she hoped.

More slow movement. It began to rain, a steady torrent that began as if someone had pulled a lever with absolutely no warning. Neither she nor her father hesitated to keep moving. They were either close or wasting their time, but whatever her father could see indicated they couldn't be sure which yet.

As they walked, Astrid discovered that having so little hair, though she had kept it in a braid anyway, meant the rain was a little less annoying. There was no soaked weight pulling at her head now, her braid absent. She didn't like not having long hair, but it was useful at the moment.

The forest grew dark as the rain increased, small rivulets now flowing every which way, all tending towards the cliff off to her left, joining to pour off into the ocean far below, though she could not see that far, the forest obscuring her view.

And on the other side... she looked to her right, tracing the tiny rivers with her eyes, still following her father. They were moving slowly enough that she could walk behind him without paying much attention, instead focusing on the water.

Water fell from the trees, hitting the dirt in some places, and bouncing off of undergrowth in others. She looked up, tracing the drops as the fell from the trees, collecting and creating larger, intermittent drops of water as opposed to the smaller, steady rain coming straight from the clouds, landing in the tangled mess of evergreen and seasonal trees Berk sported on this side of the island, dripping off of-

She froze, not quite believing her eyes. It darted away, lithe and impossibly silent in the trees, bounding between the trunks as if flying without wings.

Her father stopped, realizing she wasn't following him, and motioned questioningly. What?

She pointed up, at the treetops, and motioned with her fingers to signal running. It was using the trees. For all she knew, it had been watching and following for the last hour. There was no way to know, because neither of them had been watching the middle distance between ground level and sky.

His eyes widened, and he put a hand to the hilt of his sword questioningly.

She shook her head. No, not like that. Watching, not striking.

Now what? It was gone...

But if she had to bet, it wasn't really gone, just getting a new vantage point. This was what they had come for. She considered sitting down while they waited, but the ground was a mess of water and mud.

It took a few minutes, a few minutes in which they were steadily soaked by the rain. A few minutes of tense anticipation.

Then she heard her father inhale sharply. She turned to look.

It was not in the trees this time, and had used their preoccupation with watching the canopy to get far closer than it should have been able to. It was an easy ax-toss away, probably capable of reaching them in half a second if it wanted to. But it did not attack, stalking through the tangled shrubbery with ease, slowly circling them.

Two acid-green eyes switched from her father to her, and back again. She knew, from long association on the raft, that changing pupils meant something. Narrow on her father, a little wider on her.

Acting on instinct, she slowly moved away from her father and from the dragon. It would probably not like her approaching, as cagey and wary as it was now, but if she let it come to her... It was time to see just how much their truce still meant to it. She was basically unarmed, so she had no choice but to uphold her side of the lack of hostilities.

It slunk towards her, every movement betraying both grace and caution. Not the caution of prey so much as the caution of one wary of treachery.

She held out a hand, dripping with rain, and spoke. "You remember me, right?"

It showed no signs of hearing her, stalking closer. She saw her father's hand twitching, so she spoke again. "Don't do anything aggressive, dad."

The dragon was almost close enough to touch, now. She pulled her hand back, not wanting to be the one to do anything first. That could come later. For now, she needed to see what it would do. That strange feeling she had learned all too well while spending days lying on that same head was coming back, a feeling of tentative peace. Would it touch her, and let her touch? It had then.

Now it was as close as it seemed willing to get, still circling her. She did not flinch as wet scale glanced across her arm, the one still bandaged, hanging by her side-

But her father did, his hand clenching on the sword hilt. He was at least ten paces away, but the moment he moved, the dragon tensed. It moved out in front of her, moving away now, and cast her father a significant glance, before glaring at her.

Then, with absolutely no sound, it leaped up into the trees and darted away, moving far too fast. It was gone for now. She knew that instinctively.

Her father shuddered, gripping the sword with tight knuckles. "Odin's beard..."

There was no point in being quiet now. "I told you. This one is different." Whatever Hiccup had done, it held even now. She could work with that.

"Astrid, I don't like that." He quickly walked over to her, putting a protective hand on her shoulder. "I know what you said, but that... that was a predator."

"All dragons are," she remarked, not quite getting his point.

He shrugged, favoring her with a small smile. "And you weren't worried at all?"

Honestly, no. "Worry came and went on that raft. I'm just glad it hasn't gone feral in the time since then." Speaking of a dragon as 'going feral' was quite strange, as it implied said dragon was not feral now, but it was true.

"If you say so..." He was grinning now. "I'm starting to believe you might not be so crazy to think this doable."

He approved. That was good. "Yes..." and here came the hard part, the part the dragon had made very clear, "but next time I come here, I have to come alone."

"I can leave my sword in my holster next time," he objected. "I was just... worried."

"And you'll keep being worried," she countered. "I have to be alone. You saw it; it didn't trust you at all. It only came close to me once I moved away from you."

"This is nothing like training dogs," her father mused unhappily. "Forget my advice, it won't help."

"We will see," she said, not committing to anything. "But for now, we should go home." She would train for a few days, getting some strength back, and then she would come back out here, alone. Maybe in the time between then and now, she could get some idea of what in the world she was going to be doing with it. At the moment, she had no idea.


	7. Adapting to Oddities

The return to the village after they found the dragon was wet and quiet. Astrid was feeling far more tired than she should, and her father didn't have much to say. They had done what they set out to do, succeeding on the first try, and she knew what would come next, to a degree.

It was almost dark by the time they made it back to the warmth and hubbub that was the village, moving around and past the small throngs of villagers, who were... celebrating.

She didn't stop to ask why everyone was so excited, mostly because Vikings were not quiet talkers. It was likely to become very obvious if she just kept her ears open.

"So, ye gonna bet for or against 'er?" one woman almost shouted to her friend, who was standing only a few paces away in the street.

"Gotta see 'er train first," the other woman replied. "If I can. Not much time for that."

"Aye, but I'm gonna bet agains' 'er" the first woman slurred. "Half a troublemaker ain't gonna make it against a Nightmare."

So they were talking about Ruffnut, and about whether to bet on her. Astrid wasn't surprised people were placing and taking bets on the final exam; Vikings bet on any and everything. But not enough time to watch her train? That implied Stoick had already set a date for the final exam, which was odd.

By the time she and her father reached their hut, it was fully dark. Astrid was just glad they had not needed to navigate the forest in the dark. Really, they had stayed out a little too late, but the last hour before turning back had made the entire trip more than worth it.

She headed to bed almost immediately, seeing that her mother wasn't home yet. Their home was small enough that she would know if her mother returned before she fell asleep, but that was unlikely.

As she lay in bed, she finalized her plans for the next morning. First, a run, followed by plenty of work on her arms, then more running. Her stamina was particularly terrible, so she would focus on that first and foremost. Then mock combat by hitting targets her family kept behind the hut, and maybe some more climbing if she could find good rocks, as that had been particularly difficult today.

Most of her day would be taken up by exercise with such a strenuous training regime, which was perfect. She didn't have anything else to do...

There was an odd fact. Technically, she was supposed to choose an occupation after the final exam, like all the other teens. Everyone fought in the raids if needed, but only a fraction of Berk did nothing but train and fight. She had intended to be one of those few.

Now, though, she needed to get back into shape. In the meantime... she did, technically, have an assignment from the chief himself. Dealing with the dragon. She would not be paid for that, but apprenticing to some trade paid almost nothing anyway, so it was no big loss, and really coin wasn't worth much on Berk. They needed everyone capable of fighting, which in turn meant essentials like food and mead were freely available. As for the rest, non-essentials... her family was not one for frivolous things. She would be fine without an actual job for as long as needed.

A door slammed, rattling the wood of the house. Her mother was home.

She could hear their voices, though the sound was muffled. "Astrid's alive, I assume."

"Of course." Her father sounded amused. There was a sound as if something was set down heavily. "What's in the satchel?"

"Some of Stoick's trash," was the response. "Chief he may be, but he's terrible at cleaning. I took this on the way out."

"How is he holding up?" Now her father's voice was sombre.

"Not well," her mother admitted. "I hope he gets past this sooner rather than later. He set that twin girl's final test for the day after tomorrow, when a week from now would have been better. He does not normally make bad decisions like that."

"Well, maybe he just wants that big ceremony over with," her father supplied.

Astrid thought about getting up, letting them know she was still awake, and saying goodnight.

"I assume you found nothing?" Her mother's voice was sure.

On second thought, maybe she wanted to hear how her father explained what had happened. That might be easier if she wasn't involved. She didn't move, knowing they'd hear her loudly creaking bed if she sat up.

"If by nothing you mean a heart attack for me, than yes, we found plenty of nothing," he remarked. "She was right about... everything."

A loud exhale. "And it really wasn't hostile at all?"

"To her, no. I might have died if I went alone. Asa, that thing is no normal dragon. It makes a Gronckle look like a sheep. I can believe it's a Night Fury."

"Is it a threat?"

"If what I saw can be turned into true obedience, she'll be the most terrifying warrior in the archipelago," he said, sounding entirely serious. "If it was any other Viking, I'd be worried about the power going to their head."

"So you think we should let this continue," he mother finished for him. "I don't agree."

"We could settle this like old times," he offered.

"And risk one of us getting hurt? You know we're just getting by as it is. Neither of us can afford to be injured."

"That was a low blow. We're doing well enough."

Astrid closed her eyes, feeling vaguely guilty over eavesdropping. But it wasn't like she could help it, and they _were _discussing her, if the conversation ever found its way back to where it began.

"Yes, we are," her mother sighed, "if you count barely scraping by as well. Oh, never mind. You're sure this is worth her risking her life?"

"Everything is a risk around here. We're Vikings. The way I see it, she'll be far _safer _if she can get that thing protecting her."

"And what of what it does to her future?"

"Her future will be fine. This might even boost her prospects. Either a tame Night Fury at her beck and call, or a dead Night Fury at our family's disposal."

"Or a dead daughter and no dragon." There was a distinct thunk of metal slamming into wood, followed by the creak of it being extracted from the mark it had just made. "Don't deny that possibility."

"I'm not. But this is our daughter we're talking about. If we tell her no, she may very well just do it anyway."

Astrid flinched, totally blindsided by that accusation. Since when had she _ever _given her parents any reason to doubt her loyalty or her obedience? She hadn't! Why would her father ever even say that?!

"Astrid wouldn't go against us," her mother objected. "It's not fair of you to assume the past will repeat itself."

Astrid was sure she had never given them any reason to doubt her, so they must not be talking of her when they spoke of the past repeating itself. Good. They trusted her. What they meant by the past didn't matter; she wouldn't pry.

"It's not, but I can't help it," her father sighed. "But we are in agreement? She has our permission to do this?"

"For the moment."

The conversation turned to other things. Astrid felt confused, relieved... and a little proud. If she was going to be working with a dragon, maybe it was for the best that it was as intimidating as this one. Her father had said she might be the most terrifying warrior in the archipelago...

She drifted off to sleep, her dreams filled with running water, black dragons slinking through the forest, and hope of future glory.

The next day passed, for the most part, exactly as she planned. She stayed away from the rest of the village for the first part of the day, preoccupied with working her body past its new limits, recovering, and then repeating the process. It was painful, and she felt nothing but satisfaction at that. If it was easy, everyone would do it.

Lunchtime came and went, and she barely stopped long enough to notice. By that point she was behind her hut, slamming her practice ax into targets constructed from driftwood and paint, crude facsimiles of Vikings and dragons. She focused on the Viking side of things, recalling Tuffnut's oddly serious warning from the day before.

He thought Snotlout might be an actual threat. Ha! She slammed her ax into the place between two planks that stood in for legs, grinning savagely. Not as long as she had her ax.

Well, an ax. She yanked it, with some difficulty, out of the target and hefted it, noting that the blade was chipping. It was old, and lack of use meant it wasn't so well kept-up. She had been neglectful of it.

No better time than now to correct that. She shouldered it and jogged around the side of her hut, into the village proper. Another run couldn't hurt, though her legs were already burning. The blacksmith shop was on the other side of the village, meaning this would be a real run, not just a short jog. She decided she'd make it there without stopping.

As she ran, she noticed that people were gearing up for festivities. Was the final exam that big an event? She had always focused on the fight, not what came before. Maybe this year she would have reveled in it, knowing it was all in her honor.

Or maybe not, given it wouldn't have been in her honor this year in any case. Hiccup had won.

That thought did not quite sour her good mood. He had paid far too high a price for his cheating, if it could even be called that, and she a similar price for not accepting defeat and just working harder to make sure it never happened again. She held no grudge against him for his victory.

But she definitely would have resented him if things had turned out differently. It was almost enough to drive her mad, a skinny, generally unenthusiastic runt somehow besting her at her life's work, and having the gall to not really enjoy it in the process. She would have, and had, resented him.

Did anyone resent Ruffnut, the current winner? She recalled how that Viking woman had spoken of betting against her. Maybe some people did. Surely Snotlout did. He had lost for the second time, and Ruffnut winning placed him solidly in fourth place of their overall class that year. Hiccup, herself, and Ruffnut had all bested him. Only Fishlegs and Tuffnut were below him, and he had to know Tuffnut was only there because he had declined what was expected.

Why? She was focusing on anything but the burning pain in her legs, determined to not stop no matter what. So why was Tuffnut acting strange?

Maybe trying to unravel the twins was too much to ask of herself. She was not one to reason through what people did. Sometimes, people just acted odd for no obvious reason. As long as they didn't affect her, she didn't mind. She would do her thing, and leave them to theirs.

She forced her screaming legs up the last small rise, and saw the Blacksmith's stall down the road. It wasn't crowded at the moment, which was both good and unusual. Whenever she needed to go there, there were always a few Vikings taking up Gobber's attention, or orders already in progress. She had always had to deal with Hiccup rather than wait for Gobber to have time for her.

She grinned tiredly as she slowed to a stop in front of the shop, her legs feeling like they were going to shatter if she took another step. It was a good thing this would probably take a while; she wanted to run all the way back, too. There was such a thing as pushing herself too far, but she wasn't quite there yet, even in this state.

The sounds of forging, hammers clanking and fire crackling, informed her that Gobber was inside, already at work. Maybe she would have to wait after all.

If she was going to wait, she might as well do it inside the forge. She stepped in, sidestepping a pile of maces that blocked the path, and worked her way towards the sounds. "Gobber!"

No response. She shifted a stack of bent swords, marveling at how careless someone must have been to accidentally bend a blade into a perfect circle, and moved further in, rounding a corner to see Gobber hard at work, as she had expected.

"Gobber!" she yelled again, waving her ax.

"In a minute... Astrid," he yelled back, looking up halfway through his yell. "I'll be with ya in a minute. Or ten."

She shrugged as he went back to work on whatever it was he was forging at the moment. She could wait. There were plenty of interesting weapons back here, in various states of disrepair, as well as some metal bits she didn't recognize, all neatly piled in a corner. Those would be Hiccup's. He used them for his...

Well, not any more. She didn't like the sinking feeling in her chest. It felt wrong to see unfinished business that would never be completed, especially business that was so clearly his, and therefore not even likely to be finished by someone else. She certainly could never understand what all of this was meant to be.

She moved on, turning in a slow circle to take in the rest of the workshop, not wanting to dwell on Hiccup's things. At that, what would Gobber do with them? Throw them out, melt the metal down and reuse it? That felt just as wrong.

It wasn't her business. She shook her head, clearing all thoughts of Hiccup from her mind. He was gone, and thinking of him would not bring him back.

She walked over to a stand of spears, examining the tips. Some were thin and long, and others had hooks, vicious barbs that would make tearing them out as dangerous as getting stabbed in the first place. The ones with barbs would, by custom, not be used against fellow Vikings. There were some very basic guidelines Vikings followed out of honor. The spears with hooks were designed to do so much damage the one impaled would never fight again.

Or, in the case of their intended targets, never fly again. A quick stab and pull back with one of these barbed spears would put a large hole in any wing, effectively grounding the dragon in question.

She moved on, walking up to a bench. There was nothing on it, but as she approached she saw a hidden nook it blocked, one with a very familiar mess of boards and blond hair stacked in a corner.

Her raft. Gobber had said he had it. She shifted the desk over, crouching in front of the driftwood that had gotten her home.

It was so _small_. That was her first impression. The sail was barely larger than her torso, and the rest of the raft sized to fit, barely enough to fit all that she remembered fitting onto it. Mismatched, ragged planks of driftwood stuck out like spears, clearly disturbed at some point. Her hair, clumsily braided into rope, still held, but it was fraying.

She smiled at that. Even her hair wouldn't give up. That was fitting.

Then something caught her eye. She stuck her hand into the mess that had saved her life and pulled out something that should not still be there. The shell she had brought from the nest, still razor sharp. That it had not fallen out of the branch she stuck it in at some point was surprising.

A memento. She liked this shell. A reminder that she had escaped the nest, and that she wanted to go back. To go back and kill the monstrosity that was in charge there.

She tucked the shell into the new arm-wrappings around her uninjured arm, marveling at how subtle the bulge was. Nobody would ever notice it unless she told them where to look.

She would keep it with her until she could return it to the nest. A way to never forget where she was going.

Should she take the tailfin? And the water holder under the raft, the one made partially from the saddle?

Actually... she might need Gobber or someone else to recreate one or both at some point in the distant future. If things went that well...

That was optimistic at best, but it was not totally out of the question. She needed to plan for the future. All of this, all of Hiccup's things here and maybe in the chief's house, might be needed later by Gobber in recreating something vital. None of it could be thrown out, ever.

"Oy, I see ya found it," a loud voice remarked.

She hadn't even noticed the sounds of the forge quieting. "Yes, I did. Gobber, do you plan to get rid of this?" She would have to reclaim it if he did, to preserve the tail and saddle.

"Eh, not really on my 'important' list," Gobber hedged. "Asides, this is a piece o' history!" He tapped the boards with his peg leg, shuffling past Astrid to do so. "Now part o' me has set peg on the nest."

She had to laugh at that. "Now do the rest of you."

"Oy, gotta save some of me for the real thing," he complained dramatically. "Ye can take it if ye want, bu' honestly I was gonna hang it from the roof."

"It might catch fire," she pointed out. Wood in the middle of a forge sounded like a bad idea.

"I've got stuff to put on it to prevent tha'," he explained.

"Then feel free," she agreed. "As long as you don't get rid of the sail or water holder. We might need those someday."

"Hiccup's inventions," Gobber sighed, moving to the bench of Hiccup's things. "I don' want a new apprentice, bu' I need one. And they'll need a place to set their work..."

"I'll take his stuff," she volunteered. "Like I said, some of it might be important."

"Eh, yer probably more trustworthy than most." Gobber crossed his arms. "If yer gonna ask me to make somethin' from his stuff, give me plenty o' warning. It'll take weeks to get it right, and I certainly ain't gonna be improvisin' along the way like he did."

She would keep that in mind. "Will do, but as of now, I just want to be prepared for any future need."

"_Now_ ye sound like 'im!" Gobber enthused, moving back to the forge. "And speakin' o' future need..."

He lifted an ax up from beside the workbench, where it had laid out of sight. It gleamed, reflecting the flickering forge coals.

She eyed it warily. "What is that?" It was an ax, but subtly different to what Gobber normally made.

"Yer new ax." He hefted it, giving it a few testing swings. "Ah know it cannae replace the old one, so I made it as different as possible while still bein'... you."

She took a step forward, still trying to figure out if she liked it or not. "What, exactly, did you do differently?"

"Well," Gobber said enthusiastically, "first I dug through Hiccup's stuff, but there was nothin' I could use. So I played around with some ideas o' me own..." He waved to a rack behind her, one half covered by old rags. "Those are me test axes. Gonna have to melt 'em down later."

She cast the rack of misshapen half-circles a wary look. "So... what did you do?" she repeated.

"Basically, I lengthened the blades towards the top, sharpened the tips to be good at stabbin', and made it jus' a wee bit thinner to keep it the same weight. It'll take some adjustin', and I think throwin' it might be a bit harder, but it's got better reach and can be swung easier, while keeping the dismemberin' potential," he explained, swinging the somewhat narrow and tall ax to demonstrate.

She still wasn't sure if she liked it. "This is the one you made with the bits of my old ax?"

"The ones that I could get off the arena stone," Gobber confirmed, holding it out to her. "It looks a little different, but it's just as good as the old one. It'll jus' take some gettin' used to."

A lot of getting used to. She couldn't fairly judge it without testing it, extensively. And it was basically a gift from Gobber...

She took it, doing her best to look grateful. "Thank you, it looks... unique."

"Ey, I know nobody can replace a favorite weapon. But ye can have more than one favorite," he advised. "Oh, also. The dragon is black?"

"It is, yes. Why?"

"If ye want, I can stain the haft," he offered. "Go wit' the color scheme, given ye'll be messin' with the beast for the time being."

"No thank you," she replied, not at all liking that idea. Working with the dragon was a way to discharge a debt. She didn't need to change anything about herself or her new ax to do that. As it was, she wasn't sure if she wanted this ax at all, new and improved or not.

"Fine by me either way," he remarked, going back to the forge and pulling out a chunk of scrap metal. "'Ave fun with yer new weapon!"

"I will," she called back, remembering at the last second to grab Hiccup's parchments and scrap metal. There wasn't much of the latter, and that mostly chunks smaller than her fist, but there were a lot of parchments, all different sizes. She ended up having to pick it all up with both arms, the new ax laid on top. So much for running home.

Not running through the village also meant, she discovered on the way back, that she was around long enough to hear hushed whispers following her through the streets. She was probably going to have to get used to that, really. Ignoring it was the best way to handle it, just as she had handled more positive talk about herself. They would stop once something more interesting came along, and Stoick had arranged just that for less than a day from now. Whether it would be yet another death or a triumph was yet to be determined.

Ruffnut. How was she faring with this? Suddenly the top student, unexpectedly thrust into the center of attention, and all without her brother by her side. Astrid personally didn't understand how the two could stand each other, but it was obvious they liked working together, more or less. Suddenly losing that ability must be disorienting for Ruffnut.

Or maybe she and Tuffnut had worked out whatever caused the split. Astrid wouldn't know. Either way, it would be Ruffnut, and Ruffnut alone, who faced the Monstrous Nightmare tomorrow.

The rest of that day passed in a blur of dumping the parchment in her room, along with the new ax, and training. She would work with the ax later; right now she wanted to focus on rebuilding herself. It helped that she was strangely hesitant to take the ax up. She had not gotten her practice ax tended to, but that could also wait.

The next day, Astrid was up before the sun. She left her new ax where it had landed atop Hiccup's parchments in her room, and went out to train. Others might find such single-minded activity boring, training day in and day out. For her, it was necessary, so she did it. That was the way of things.

As such, the first she heard of it being time to go was her father sticking his head out the back door and calling for her. She made her way through the house, intent on leaving as she was-

But then, as she was dropping her training ax in her room, her eyes were drawn to the new ax lying abandoned in the corner. Gobber would be at the arena and it would be disrespectful to not be wearing his gift, even if it did not really feel quite right for her.

She picked it up and put it on her belt, on the left side. Not where her old ax had gone, because this was not her old ax. That was good enough. Hopefully her parents would not notice it.

She stepped out the front door, joining them in the street. Unlike before, she would not be permitted to watch from the gate, so she had to sit in the stands with her family, which was fine by her.

"What is that ax, Astrid?" her mother asked curiously.

She held in a small groan. So much for it not being noticed. "A gift from Gobber, to replace my old one," and at that, did her parents even know that was gone?

"What happened to my old ax?" Asa asked curiously, reminding Astrid that it _had _been her mother's ax before becoming hers.

That reminder just made the memory of its loss all the more galling. She gritted her teeth, glaring aimlessly. "Snotlout took it into the arena the other day and decided to get it melted by the Nadder."

"And as Snotlout is still alive, I assume the ax was also a bribe to not kill him," her father summarized.

"Basically," she admitted. She had not thought of it that way, but it was, kind of.

"It looks... different." Her mother did not sound disapproving, but she also didn't sound very enthusiastic, which was a pretty good description of how Astrid felt about it.

"I'm not so sure about it myself, but he was kind enough to make it, and I need a new ax, so I'm going to try it out," she explained, ending the conversation. They both obviously approved of that.

As they walked, the streets grew more crowded- and more noisy. Vikings whooped and hollered, clearly more than ready to watch blood being shed, dragon or human.

The arena was crowded when Astrid and her parents got there, the stone seats mostly occupied. It took some searching to find three seats together, and even then two boisterous Vikings would be to either side of them. It was good enough. Astrid found herself in the middle, lucky enough to have her more reserved parents as buffers between herself and the other Vikings.

Her parents clearly weren't really enjoying any of this buildup or revelry. They might appreciate the fight, if it was a good show of skill on Ruffnut's part, but they did not really like the rest of it. She didn't mind that; it was a fair viewpoint. Hadn't she herself thought that the extra celebration wasn't important only yesterday?

It was very obvious when the event was about to begin. Everyone shut up, a rarity among Vikings. Quiet fell like a wave across the arena, the more observant Vikings silencing the less observant through a variety of methods ranging from a light clubbing to knocking them unconscious, depending on the Viking in question.

There was Stoick, in his front-row chair carved from the stone of the arena, a mug in one hand, and a warhammer in the other. He was dressed in a bearskin cloak, but the grandeur he exuded only went as far as his clothing. His eyes were withdrawn, and they spoke of someone still in mourning. But he was a good chief, and would do what he had to do. That included a speech.

"Today, one of our own proves her worth," he boomed, his voice echoing through the arena. "Ruffnut Thorston, daughter of Buffnut Thorston, has proven herself among her remaining peers in this year's traditional dragon training program."

The bit about 'her remaining peers,' Astrid noted with mixed feelings, was clearly meant to exclude Hiccup. And maybe herself? She was still technically 'remaining' if that meant still alive, but she was not really still in dragon training, the dragons having enforced a far more punishing test of their own, in a way. It didn't matter, but it bothered her that she didn't know which way he had intended it.

"Today," the chief continued, "Ruffnut proves herself in front of the entire village. Today, she becomes a Viking. Today, she becomes _one of us_!"

That was the cue for thunderous applause. It was a short, impersonal speech, but he probably hadn't had much time or inclination to write one for Ruffnut after having to scrap the very likely personal one written for Hiccup.

All in all, Astrid was surprised the chief was holding up as well as he was. Maybe her father had been right in suggesting the chief was trying to get this over with as soon as possible; all of this seemed designed to remind him, and her, of Hiccup at every opportunity. This was not moving on so much as preparing to do so, and only moving on would dull his grief, so he obviously wanted to get to it as soon as possible.

All speculation. Had she thought so much about every little thing before all of this? No, but she had not needed to. Things had not been not spiralling into strangeness so quickly back then. There had only been one oddity to adapt to. Now, they were coming at her from all sides. She had to cope somehow.

Chief Stoick sat back down, and Gobber raised his voice from somewhere out of sight, probably by the lever for the Nightmare cage. "Oy, keep that applause going! 'Ere comes the winning trainee now!"

It was true; Ruffnut was walking out into the center of the arena, sizing up the racks of available weaponry lining one side.

That was a strangely isolated case of anti-cheating tactics. All weapons on those racks were either generic ones made by Gobber, or submitted by the trainee and checked ahead of time... also by Gobber. What he checked for, Astrid didn't know, and she had also never heard of a weapon being rejected, but the intent was still clear. Had there been a cheater in the distant past who inspired such safeguards? And if so, why only this one method, this one time? If someone, like Hiccup, tricked their way this far then they had already won the right to fight the Nightmare. Stopping them short here was...

She smiled grimly. Actually, that was the Viking way, all right. Let the one who did not deserve to fight the final dragon face it without their tricks. If they could pull it off, then clearly they deserved to be there anyway, and if they could not then there would be no need to punish them, or even call them out. The problem solved itself either way.

As she watched, Ruffnut picked out a spear, one somewhat longer than would be practical against Vikings. It was a dragon-killing weapon, and a good choice at that. She might need distance, given Monstrous Nightmares could set themselves on fire. Picking something short-range like a knife or mace was asking to die unless one was quite skilled.

Her spear in hand, Ruffnut looked up to the stands, seeming to be searching for something. Then her eyes locked on someone or something to Astrid's far right, and she scowled.

Probably Tuffnut. So much for the two of them working out their differences. Tuffnut had said something about not wanting to be one half of a whole anymore; was this a ploy to get said other half killed so that he would be the only one? Surely not. If nothing else, Tuffnut did not strike her as the type to do anything other than challenge his sister to a duel if he truly wanted her dead.

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," Ruffnut called up, adjusting her helmet as she spoke. "Let it out."

There was a second of anticipation, and then-

The large, reinforced gate locking the Monstrous Nightmare in its pen slammed open, coated in flames, and the Monstrous Nightmare roared, its body already fully immolated. Its eyes visibly locked onto Ruffnut, not sparing the Vikings to all sides in the arena so much as a passing glance.

Ruffnut muttered something inaudible, setting her spear with the point towards the dragon. It watched her almost mockingly, letting her get into position.

Then it charged, slamming through the space where she had stood, barely missing her as she dove to the side. She began to run around it, her spear pointed at it the entire time. It turned, awkwardly lashing out at her, constantly being forced to shuffle around to keep her within range.

Fire began pouring from its maw as it attempted to burn her. She leaped over the first torrent, but subsequent blasts were too high up for her to jump. It began to herd her, forcing her into a corner. It was the corner with the weapon racks, but that would be no big help.

Astrid could not tear her eyes away from the scene, entirely aware she might be about to watch yet another of her peers meet their demise. Would she be the only one left? At the rate they were going, Snotlout, Fishlegs, and Tuffnut would all have their own mortally perilous incidents within the end of the week.

Then Ruffnut stuck out her hand behind her, feeling for something on the weapon rack. The Nightmare inhaled, preparing to end her.

She grabbed a shield, one with no special pattern or runes, and threw it. It bounced off of the Nightmare's snout, distracting it for a few moments.

Then she grabbed two more, awkwardly holding the spear in her armpit, the point still angled at the Nightmare. She was clearly struggling to hold two shields and a spear at the same time, both from the difficulty in keeping a grip on all three weapons and from their weight, but the shield to the snout bought her just enough time to get her shields up.

The Nightmare blasted her, its liquid fire splashing across the stone floor and up against her shields. She stumbled back, only visible from the arena as a place where the fire could not move forward, splashing in every direction.

Astrid could see Vikings near the bottom of the stands preparing to jump in. Nobody wanted to actually lose Ruffnut, no matter how uncaringly they bet on her death. Tuffnut, she noticed, was one of those preparing to interfere, wearing a look of utter horror-

And then the splashing point, the break in the torrent that meant Ruffnut, moved forward. The Nightmare stopped flaming in confusion, revealing Ruffnut, scalded by the heat but not actually burnt beyond that, her shields held high. The spear point was sticking out from between the shields.

Her face could not be seen, hidden by the shields, but her warcry was clearly audible. She charged forward, running through the lingering pools of flame, her boots smoldering and in a few places catching flame. The dragon tried to fire her again, but ended up only coughing up a few specks of fire.

It was out of fire. But by the time it realized that, it was too late. Ruffnut, screaming all the while, did not stop her charge, running into and bouncing off of the Nightmare's scaly chest, her helmet falling off as she rebounded. Both shields fell away, clattering on the stone to either side of her.

Her spear, however, did not fall away, its extra-long shaft driven deep between the Nightmare's scales. Was the wound fatal?

The dragon certainly acted as though it was, rearing with a roar of pain that Astrid could feel in her bones. It stumbled back, clawing futilely at the spear in its chest, though its wing-arms were not at all well-suited to reaching that place at all.

Even as Ruffnut warily got to her feet, it became clear she would not have much more to do. The dragon collapsed, blood flowing from around the spear shaft in its body, a trail of red so dark it looked black leaking from the beast.

Ruffnut quickly returned to the weapons rack, this time selecting another spear, a shorter and stouter one, and approached the beast once more, carefully avoiding its fading flailing, approaching the head.

The dragon wasn't going down easily. It struck forward like a snake as soon as it saw her, its neck moving with purpose while the rest of it flailed aimlessly.

But even now, Ruffnut was too wary to be caught by that. She jumped back and stabbed down. The spear glanced off of its scales, and it snapped at her again.

That time, the spear did not hit scale, instead piercing its eye to reach the brain behind. It fell silent, one final howl dying with it.

As soon as it was clear the dragon was really dead, Ruffnut sat down and tore off her boots, hurling them at it. That was a strange gesture... until Astrid recalled that said boots had been burning. Ruffnut's charge might have won her the fight and even saved her own life, but it had not been without consequence.

But clearly she wasn't hurt too badly, because she was smiling, basking in the riotous cheering of the crowd.

Astrid felt no inclination to do more than clap politely. Ruffnut had won, against most expectations, but something did not feel right. She could not put her finger on it.

Still, Ruffnut had won. That in itself was cause for celebration. One good outcome among all of these strange changes.

_**Author's Note:**_** So much to unpack about that last scene. Ruffnut not only won dragon training on her own, with minimal injuries, she killed... well, Hookfang. I'll be clear. That was Hookfang, and Snotlout is at no point in this story going to work with or befriend a red Monstrous Nightmare. The rest is up in the wind (for you; I know what happens). Hey, at least now we're diverging from the first movie a little more. One of my big pet peeves is stories that deviate from canon only to... not actually change anything. It's such a waste of potential to not explore the ripple effects of any change.**


	8. Unexplained Setbacks

Thunderous applause accompanied Ruffnut as she began to strut around the arena, casually avoiding the pools of liquid fire and smiling all the while. She had earned this and clearly intended to enjoy it, burned feet or not.

But the event was not quite over yet, so she would have to wait a little longer to truly bask in the glory of victory. Stoick stood, a genuine smile on his face, and the crowd mostly quieted.

"What a fight!" he yelled exuberantly. "Let it be known that Ruffnut Thorston is a true warrior of Berk!"

That had a few actual implications. Astrid knew them by heart.

First, that Ruffnut was to be supplied with whatever she needed, for free. Dedicated warriors were not paid, they were supported by their village. She had first pick of weaponry, armor, and whatever else anyone produced for use by the village. If she abused that privilege it would be limited, but that was rare.

Second, that she was independent. Her parents still had some small rights over her for the time being, but they could no longer act on her behalf without her consent. Specifically, she could not be forced into marriage. She also could not be forced to leave the island if her family did. In fact, she would need permission to permanently move away, but that was also a rare occurrence.

Third, she was a warrior. That meant she would fight in every raid she could, and would be expected to protect any lesser-skilled Vikings with her life. The responsibility that went with her new position, her reward for being the best of their generation. What some lesser-principled Vikings might see as the price for the other benefits.

Astrid knew these implications well, because she had been striving to earn them for most of her life. She could not deny the sharp flash of jealousy washing over her at the knowledge that Ruffnut had won what she wanted most-

But she could and would stifle that jealousy. Nobody could argue Ruffnut had not earned this. She might not have been the absolute best of the class, but she was the best of those left standing.

With that thought in mind, Astrid rose from her seat and joined the throng of Vikings streaming down to where Ruffnut would be leaving the arena, with the intent of congratulating her. Best to put whatever lingering traces of resentment she might hold to rest here and now. She still fully intended to accomplish the same through achievement in the raids, and it would not do to have bad blood between herself and Ruffnut. They would be equals, which was an odd thought she was going to have to get used to.

Eventually, probably after having her feet seen to, Ruffnut emerged from the tunnel leading to the arena proper, smiling broadly. Relief was mixed with triumph in her expression, which was fitting. She accepted praise, congratulations, and back-slaps from every Viking who offered such.

Not very graciously, but they were Vikings; nobody expected that. So if she was smug and not at all humble, nobody cared.

Then the line the remaining Vikings had been forced to form by the narrow passageway they were crammed into halted. Who was slowing it down at the front?

Astrid couldn't really see, stuck behind a large, beefy woman who smelled of old ale. She leaned out to the side, getting a good look from under the woman's hairy armpit.

Tuffnut. Was he congratulating his sister here, instead of just waiting until she was at home? Ruffnut was staring at him, her face no longer smug.

Then she gestured to the exit, glaring. An obvious dismissal; rude and clear in meaning.

So not only had the two twins not resolved their dispute, now Ruffnut didn't seem to want to. Maybe she was just making Tuffnut pay for letting her fight alone, but it did not feel as simple as petty revenge.

Tuffnut left, and Ruffnut's happy grin returned as the line continued. Astrid moved forward with the line, still a little disturbed by what she had seen. It felt wrong for the twins to be so seriously against each other.

Another pause. Astrid resigned herself to looking under the woman's armpit every time she wanted to see the front of the line, and peered through once more.

Snotlout, this time. Of course he would hold up the line. He tried to put an arm on Ruffnut's shoulder, and she kicked him between the legs. The perfect response, in Astrid's opinion. The line continued moving, Snotlout shoved roughly out of the way.

He should have known better than to hit on Ruffnut now, famous or not. She would, from this point on, have the full support of the village. That meant, among the other, more important things, that she could reject him as thoroughly as she pleased, and he had no recourse. Especially if he wanted to ascend to the rank of dedicated warrior himself, given she would have a say in whether he was allowed to do so, no matter how grand his achievements in the raids. That was just how it worked. One could not expect Vikings with bad blood to trust each other with their lives.

All of that meant...

Astrid frowned, seeing what it meant for her. Ruffnut was now officially out of Snotlout's league. That might mean he chased her all the more, stubborn idiot that he was, but it probably meant he wouldn't bother, especially given he had never shown any signs of desiring her before now, and was therefore only attracted by her newfound status.

Who was left? Their generation had a serious lack of people, and the only other girls not a decade older than Snotlout were less than ten years old, two twins from the Ingerman family, Fishlegs' cousins. Which left Astrid, and Astrid alone.

She shrugged that bleak conclusion off, adding it to the same list of worries that Tuffnut's warning had started. Snotlout was probably not going to let up in chasing her anytime soon, but she would deal with him as she always had.

There were no further interruptions as Astrid and the large woman in front of her made their way up the line. Eventually, said woman slapped Ruffnut on the back and congratulated her, and it was Astrid's turn.

She was not the kind of person to slap Ruffnut on the back and act as if they were old friends, so she stuck with something a little more sober and less exuberant. "You did well. I hope to join you soon." An acknowledgement that for the moment, Ruffnut had what Astrid aspired to. She was not so selfish as to deny Ruffnut that satisfaction.

Ruffnut smirked all the wider at that, but there was a sharp, almost cruel edge to her voice. "If you can make it. Looks like I win."

Well, yes. Obviously. Astrid shook her head, not wanting to hold up the line for too long. "Yes, I just said that."

"Eh, forget it," Ruffnut remarked, waving whatever misunderstanding Astrid wasn't even seeing away. "So, jealous?"

Astrid kept her cool, knowing it would be extremely rude to get into an argument here. "No." She moved aside, wanting to be done talking to Ruffnut. Forget not being humble; the girl was outright trying to make her mad.

"Yeah, right!" Ruffnut laughed, before turning to the next Viking in line.

Astrid tried to shake off her frustration, walking a little faster on her way home, but she couldn't quite drop it. Wasn't it enough for Ruffnut that she had won? So much for graciously pushing away her own jealousy.

Ruffnut was probably just not thinking straight right now, basking in her own glory. Maybe there was some hidden resentment of her own playing into how she had acted. Whatever it was, Astrid hoped she got over it quickly. Ruffnut was one of their warriors now, and as such needed to be a good example for the rest of Berk, a role model for other Vikings to aspire to.

As Astrid made her way up the half-dozen small steps that led to her front door, she felt a weight she had almost forgotten bump against her leg, a slightly longer shape than she expected. The new ax from Gobber.

She debated putting it away for a moment. It was not what she was used to.

But she needed to test it out, and the best way to do that would be to force herself to use it, or at least keep it with her. She would start today, and see how it felt. So far, she had been too distracted to really take note of its weight.

She took it off of her belt, standing in her hut, alone, and lightly twisted her wrist, feeling how the center of weight was a little further along the haft than usual.

Did this ax have some of her old one in it? She could, of course, see no signs of that. It did not feel like it fit her. The old one was normal, strong, and reliable. This would take getting used to, if she even wanted to put in the effort.

But she knew that already. She mimed chopping downward with it and noted that it _did_ feel a little faster, the tips of the twin blades cutting a little further from her than she was used to.

Maybe... she still didn't really like it. It didn't_ fit_ her. She kept coming back to that because there was no better way to describe her objection to it.

But that was a pointless quibble with what could not be denied was a perfectly functional ax. She would carry it anyway, though she longed for her old ax.

Something else. She needed to focus on something else. Dwelling on what was gone for good helped nobody, and she found herself doing it far too often. What was something new, something current?

Not her training; that was also working to recover what was lost. Was there something else she needed to be doing?

Yes, though she had no real plans as to how to go about it. It was something she could just do, not plan for. Dealing with that dragon.

She had the rest of today, and knew that if she walked the same path as before, she would be able to spend a full hour with the dragon, assuming it was in the same spot.

Time to see what needed to be done there. She would figure out the specifics on the way.

But first, she needed to be sure someone knew where she was going. Waiting for one of her parents to return home would take too long. She would have to leave a note.

Finding spare parchment was laughably easy; not all of Hiccup's parchments had been written or drawn on, and she only needed a small fraction of the unused portion. A charcoal pencil was a little harder to locate, as she had not taken any of Hiccup's from the forge. Her family kept a couple around, ready to use, but she had to search a little before finding one tucked away beneath one of their plain tables.

That done, she wrote out her note and dropped it, face-up, on the same table.

'I'm going into the woods to work with the dragon. I should be back by nightfall.'

Short and simple. Nothing more needed to be said. If she failed to come back then she was probably dead, so search parties were unlikely to be of any use.

She didn't feel very hungry, but given she would be out the rest of the day, that didn't matter. She managed to find an old, slightly stale hunk of bread and some yak jerky, and ate both. No stopping for food this time. She would eat again when she got home.

Water, on the other hand, was more likely to be needed along the way. She picked up an empty waterskin, resigned to needing to refill it. At the village well, as that was on her way anyway.

Food handled, water taken care of... self-defense. She tapped the ax on her hip, resigned to getting used to it. It would do.

Anything else? No, she was not going to be gone long. She still had that sharp shell hidden under her arm-wraps, but that was not a tool so much as a reminder. It was so easy to keep on her at all times, swapping out every time she changed her arm wraps, that she had already gotten used to its outline pressing into her forearm, a light pressure that did not bother her.

She was ready. She went back out into the village, noting the distant crowd around the mead hall as she walked. The festivities were in full swing.

Stopping by the well only took a few minutes, and then she was off once more, this time with the weight of a full water-skin hanging against her side, lightly bouncing off the flat of her ax.

* * *

Getting back to where she and her father had found the dead boar proved arduous, if not so much so that she lost time in doing so, only losing their exact path a few times along the way, and always quickly finding it again. On Berk, good trails were hard to come by, so every time she moved away from the one they had forged before, she was quickly informed of her error by some impassable obstacle. And this time she had some idea of what the right path looked like, so it was actually a quicker journey than she expected, not more than two hours in all.

At the end of those two hours, she stood upwind of the boar's carcass, staring at the empty eye sockets. A macabre landmark, but a landmark nonetheless.

She was in the dragon's part of Berk now. It could lay claim to this part of the island because nobody else wanted it, and the chief had granted her permission to try and train it, meaning Berk, as a whole, did not object to it being there.

Well, Berk as represented by the chief. She was glad it was so far away from the village; she owed the dragon her protection, and being so isolated meant she wouldn't have to personally prevent idiotic Vikings from hunting it every other day.

The chief had also forbidden that, but if the dragon was known to be close to the village, Astrid wouldn't put it past some of the less honorable of Berk to 'wander' across it and 'defend themselves.'

Or maybe, she thought, staring at the rapidly emptying skull still feeding the local insect population, they really would have to defend themselves in that scenario.

Whatever. Things had not worked out that way, luckily.

Focus. She walked in the same general direction as before, now watching... well, everything. The dragon had taken advantage of her lack of proper observational habits last time, both in starting up in the trees and then approaching from the ground once seen. This time, she would watch both equally. Only the sky itself did not need to be watched, because this dragon could not fly.

But her mind was on other, semi-related things. What did she want to accomplish here? Overall, not just today, as today was likely to be only one step on a long road to wherever she was going.

Her goal, defined by honor, was to prevent anyone from killing the dragon she owed her life to. Really, she would need to save its life a few times to truly make them even, but this was an acceptable substitute. It was capable of fending for itself in the wilds of Berk, so her job was easier than it might have been.

But she needed to plan for the future, which was why she had promised the chief to try and get it under control. On Berk, everyone worked for the good of the village, and this dragon would be no different if she had anything to say about it. That would also ensure she was not fighting the rest of the village off every other moment. Ideally, she could demonstrate that it was useful to everyone, so that she could let it live in the woods without interference, and call upon it when needed.

Needed to do what? This was where her plan was less straightforward, to a point. She was a warrior; she would fight any enemy Berk had, dragon or human. As she was the one working with this dragon, she needed to work it into her own goals.

That made her wonder what would have happened if Hiccup was in her place. Would he have somehow taught the dragon to help in smithing as a way to prove its worth? She could almost see that, with how easily it had understood and obeyed him for the most part.

But she was not him; this dragon would not be used in the forge.

With that, her end-goal became clear. She would teach it to fight for Berk. Dragons or humans, whatever attacked would deal with an angry, albeit flightless, Night Fury. That was something to aspire to.

But it was an animal, so she would have to direct it.

Okay... so she needed to get it used to being around her, and then used to obeying her every command. It had done that with Hiccup, so she didn't think it was out of the question.

It had also flown with Hiccup, but she wasn't sure if Gobber could ever recapture the complexities of what he had built and she had subsequently salvaged. Best not to think about that possibility for the time being. She would want complete control before she ever tried going into the air with it in any case.

That led to another thought, one she had really only taken for granted until now. She would be the one doing all of this. Her father was right; other Vikings might abuse the power she had seen and intended to cultivate in commanding it. She did not want this responsibility, and that made her least likely to relish or abuse it.

She didn't want it, but she had it, and complaining would do her no good. She could work this into her vague plans for the future. It might even help. Or not. But honor compelled her to go down this road, and the chief was letting her. That was enough.

She stopped walking, wondering if the dragon was even around. There was no sign it was around. But...

Was this what her father had seen the other day? She wasn't sure if they had passed the point where the dragon had approached them yet, but she was finding it oddly easy to keep to the right path. There was a strangely helpful break in the foliage here, a bent tree there...

This was a real trail, one forged by animals, likely boar. It had to lead somewhere.

She was curious now, but also wary. Wild boar could and would attack if provoked or just already in a bad mood. She took up her ax, not wanting to be caught off-guard, and continued to advance.

The trail peeled away from the cliff to the left, diving down into the woods, winding around larger trees. Eventually, she rounded a corner and stopped.

An ominous cave mouth greeted her, leering as if it was an eye of some giant beast, dark and deep. She could not see more than a few feet inside.

But at the moment, she wasn't looking too deeply into it anyway, far more focused on what lay all around the cave mouth, in a small clearing with a roof of bent trees blocking all direct sunlight.

More boar, male and female, young and old. No piglets, but it wasn't the time of year for those anyway... and these boar would not be creating piglets at any time of year. They were carcasses, in various states of rot. They might be older than the sole body that marked the dragon's territory, but Astrid didn't think so. This was all done at the same time.

The predator had vacated this cave to use for itself, and secured a veritable feast in the process.

Astrid didn't mind that. Boar were a nuisance, and nobody would miss this particular group. More importantly, all of this implied she had found the dragon's new den, which was extremely convenient. Now she knew for a fact that it would return here often enough. No searching fruitlessly through the woods for it.

For the moment she was alone here, assuming the cave was empty. She opted against exploring it, having some vague feeling that if the dragon was home, it might take offense to her intruding.

She sat on a nearby rock, breathing through her mouth to avoid the wafting stench of the corpses. Weren't dragons supposed to have a good sense of smell? Maybe it liked rot and death.

She waited for half an hour or so, mentally tracking how much longer she could afford to wait before heading home. Maybe she would have to come by earlier in the day.

Then she heard a rough, angry growl... and felt a waft of hot air on the back of her neck. She sprung forward, barely avoiding tripping on a dead boar, and spun. What was it with this dragon and sneaking up on her?

There it was, staring at her. Its eyes were suspicious, angry slits, and it stalked closer, not acting at all like the other day. It was mad, and she had no idea why. Was she invading its territory?

Just in case, she backed up until she was out of the clearing, her hands tight around the hilt of her new ax. She didn't mean to use it unless forced to, but at least she had it.

No, it didn't seem to care where she was, not relaxing a bit as she backed into the forest proper. So what was wrong?

Maybe it didn't recognize her, somehow? "It's me," she asserted, guessing that her voice would help it identify her. If it worked with smell, the corpses might be messing with it. "You know I mean no harm."

It didn't seem appeased by that either, stalking closer.

She stopped backing away, wondering what it wanted. It was totally capable of killing her with fire, so she reasoned that it was not approaching to kill her. It struck her as an efficient predator.

She was also not as afraid as she probably should be. Their truce had held before; why would it fail now?

Then it leaped for her, and she lost all sense of confidence, utterly unprepared for the lightning-fast tackle. Her back slammed against a tree, and she saw stars. Her ax was somewhere, not in her hands anymore, and her head spun too much for her to do much. It was pressing down with its front paws, crushing her upper legs-

It growled at her, glaring into her eyes, before hopping backwards and darting away, back into the clearing.

She met its eyes, her vision clearing.

It made a strange sound, one that sounded almost frustrated, and nodded to her. What in the world did that mean?

Clearly, it did not get the response it expected. It wilted, turning and picking up one of the older carcasses in its mouth, and walked off into the forest, leaving her alone with a headache and sore legs.

She felt around in the dirt next to her for her ax, eventually feeling the blade and locating it from there, not looking down. She didn't want to move her head any more until the nausea went away. Not that anyone would be likely to notice her vomit here, given just how many other sources of stench there were in the vicinity.

What had gone wrong?

Clearly not enough to get her killed, but something nonetheless.

She lay back against the tree, closing her eyes for a brief moment. This was going to be harder than she thought.

She was done tempting fate today. She wasn't going to come back until she had some idea why it had attacked her, but not gone for the kill. It had seemed almost disappointed in the end, along with what she identified as a look of betrayal, or crushed hope.

But it was an animal. It could not feel either of those last two. There had to be some obvious answer she was missing.

She picked up her ax and stumbled to her feet, her calves aching from the pressure. Walking back was going to be... interesting, and she needed to get started now if she wanted to be home by dark. Besides, she did not want to still be here when the dragon returned. Not like this, dizzy and vulnerable.

She took her ax with her, despite almost wanting to leave it in the dirt. Some help it had been. Really, she couldn't blame this on the ax, but that felt better than not knowing who or what to blame.

She was not going to give up. Their truce had still held somewhat, and she was not hurt in any way that would be an issue in a few days. Assuming she could figure out what had gone wrong, this was only a temporary setback, albeit unexpected and unexplained.

* * *

As Astrid made her way home, her legs aching, she pondered the situation. Really, there could be any number of stupidly specific reasons for the dragon's temperament today. She didn't know enough about it, and the only person who did was dead.

But not gone, not entirely. She smiled grimly, thinking back to earlier that day. It looked like she was going to have to dwell on what could not be recovered after all. At least she had Hiccup's things already, conveniently open to browsing at her leisure. It was lucky he was the kind of Viking to write things down. If Snotlout had died with important information, it would have died with him.

She did make it home before dark, if only barely, the sun sliding below the horizon as she stepped into the pool of light cast by one of the large braziers that lit the village during raids and special occasions. The celebration, probably growing increasingly drunk as the day passed, had spilled out of the Great Hall and into the rest of the village. She avoided a few puddles of ale in the street, not wanting her boots to be soaked in something flammable. Ruffnut's example from earlier that day was great motivation to avoid burning her boots while her feet were still in them.

At home, she fell back onto her bed, feeling battered and annoyed. Today could not be written off as a total failure, but it was close.

But the day wasn't quite over...

She forced herself to sit up and light a candle, glad she rarely used hers. Candles were an import, and an expensive one. She only got one a year. It didn't bother her, given she rarely needed it for anything.

Reading at night was one of those rare things. She pulled the pile of parchment out of the corner and up onto her lap, sliding the metal bits off as she did. Those weren't going to help. If Hiccup had written anything that might aid her in figuring out what went wrong, it would be in this pile...

Or in his room. She could always go to Stoick and ask to look through Hiccup's things, if she explained the general idea as to why. Stoick was practical; he would understand.

But first she should be sure that was necessary. She began sorting through the documents, quickly tossing aside any and all designs. She wasn't able to understand more than the general idea behind those anyway; they would be no help.

Aside from the designs, there was actually very little else in this pile. Some notes on forge tasks that needed to be done, a depressingly large amount of 'future creations' lists, all entries crossed through as failures, and a few drawings, mostly of inventions.

Those, while not helpful, were interesting. She lingered over each one, liking that these, unlike the schematics, were clear and simple. They let her see the inventions as they would be, not as a jumble of sketches, diagrams, and cramped handwriting.

Two of the drawings she recognized. They had been sandwiched between two large 'To Do' lists, clearly hidden from prying eyes. The saddle and the tailfin. There was no dragon in the pictures, just the devices, and they were just vague enough that Hiccup must have been confident in his ability to explain away their purpose if questioned. Gobber might be able to use these in the future.

Other than that, there was nothing of use. This was all stuff related to the forge, and almost none of it would have been compromising if discovered. Given the forge was a public place, that was no surprise.

So she would need the stuff from his room. That was going to have to wait until tomorrow.

* * *

The next day, Astrid put off going to visit the chief's hut until mid-afternoon. Everyone in the village had been up late and drinking, and she wanted to avoid the inevitable hangover. Vikings might drink more mead than water, but that didn't stop them from getting unfathomably drunk during celebrations. It just made it harder, a task most took to with gusto.

Once noon had come and gone, Astrid made her way up the hill to the mead hall, stopping just short of the stairs to turn and go to the chief's hut. He lived close to the mead hall, probably because it was, if not the geographical center of the village, than the cultural center.

It took a few minutes of knocking on the door to get an answer, and she knew from the moment the chief let her in with a gruff voice that he was still hungover. So much for being polite and letting him recover.

She got right to the point, knowing he would appreciate brevity. "Sir, I need to go through Hiccup's things. He may have written down things I need to know."

Stoick considered that for a moment, his face dark. Eventually, he scowled and waved her up without saying anything. Fine by her.

Hiccup's room was surprisingly clean, and his things were piled on his desk rather neatly. She had the feeling some of Stoick's well-wishers had done that; Hiccup had not struck her as so meticulously impersonal with his things.

Still, it made her task easy. She stood at his desk and began sorting through the parchment pile, this one substantially larger than what she had recovered from the forge.

On top were a few yellowed parchments covered in random sketches, things that looked downright amateur-level compared to what she had seen earlier. Old work. She put that aside immediately, feeling a little bad about digging through a dead man's life like this. It needed to be done, but that didn't make it right.

Next were all of his normal drawings. She put those aside too, noting that things were getting more current as she went deeper into the pile. By that logic, the bottom would have what she was looking for.

And it did. Hiccup must have trusted his father to have no interest going through his parchments, because there were straight-out drawings of a certain black dragon down there at the bottom of the pile, along with a notebook.

Astrid spent a few minutes looking at the drawings. They had no real purpose and conveyed no new information, but they were well-done and detailed. She knew the arrangement of scales on its head because she had stared at them for weeks on end, and he had even gotten that tiny detail right in these depictions.

There was affection in these images. He really liked this dragon. She knew she would not feel the same about it. She was not one for pets. This was going to be like a trained dog for her, not a cherished pet, or however he had seen it.

The notebook, she noted immediately as she opened it, was not full. Most of it was blank.

What was there, it became clear, was no immediate help. A sketch of the Night Fury from above, plenty more detailed schematics of the tailfin and saddle, and nothing else of interest.

She tucked the book and relevant drawings under her arm, slightly frustrated. Nothing on its habits or quirks of personality, nothing about how he had made it tame. The secret to whatever he had done actually had died with him, it seemed. She was going to have to do this herself, with no hints from the past and no second chances.

_**Author's Note:**_** I wanted to address this aspect of the story sooner or later. Hiccup's notes are a blank check for me, because he could be as detailed or specific as I need with them, and nobody would see it as odd, but in this story I'm not taking that easy way out. Astrid will get no direct help in her current dilemma.**

**Which makes the title of the next chapter somewhat contradictory, all in all...**


	9. Answers from the Past

No second chances, no help from Hiccup's notes. Astrid had one confusing dragon to work with, and one life of her own. Losing either to a mistake was unacceptable, because neither could be replaced.

So, she did not go back to the dragon the next time she went into the woods, a few days later. Instead, she wandered, thinking. It was easier to put her mind on wild things and their like out here, in a place nobody else went.

Almost nobody. She had trailed Hiccup... was it here?Astrid stopped, looking around at the familiar scenery. Berk's forests were so chaotic as to be unique. No patch of jumbled greenery, stone, and terrain looked quite like any other patch.

She ran her hand over a large boulder, feeling a twinge in her bad arm as she pressed her palm down on the rough stone. This rock, she was sure she had lingered on, watching the forest edge. Waiting for her prey.

She had been the hunter. How ironic, that her hunt would lead her to a predator far out of her league.

She found herself following the old path she knew by heart. It was the work of several days, because he had been slippery, even unaware of her. Each day he had managed to slip her, but taking the same path every time had been his undoing. Each day, she had made it a little further, and in the end that had revealed the end of the path.

Astrid realized that there _was _something else she could be doing out here. Maybe, just maybe, Hiccup had left something useful in the cove. She had thought him lax in his secrecy in his room, so maybe there was more in the place he had considered totally hidden.

Astrid knew better than to get her hopes up. Storing parchment outside was a bad idea long-term, and it had rained here between that last day and now, so the odds were miniscule that she would find anything that was still readable, if there was any parchment in the first place, and the only information she could imagine finding would be of the written variety.

But she was wandering the woods anyway, so there was no reason not to check. She continued walking along Hiccup's route. Across a boulder here, along this narrow ditch that likely served as a seasonal stream, and past the long grass field. Not through for some reason, skirting around the edges. She followed the roundabout way, seeing no real reason to hurry.

The passage into the cove itself had stumped her for an almost embarrassingly long time, but she knew where the way in was now, a crack between two adjacent boulders that widened almost immediately, letting one out onto a series of ledges that made a convenient path down.

Down into this sinkhole, this depression in the earth. She noted that the cliff faces down here were great for climbing if one wanted a challenge, complex in some places and sheer in others. It would be a difficult task to climb out, if it could be done at all. A challenge for another day. Today, she needed to think, as frustratingly placid an activity as that was.

To think, but also to search. She moved along the edges of the cove, looking for anything man-made. Hiccup would keep his things out of the elements if at all possible. There didn't seem to be any caves within easy reach, so that meant a box or chest. Surely it would not be hidden. Hiccup had already considered this place hidden enough to keep a dragon in.

But there did not seem to be anything here. A few old tools left to rust, and nothing else.

Even those tools felt out of place here. He must have intended to take them back, before... everything. Before she made her presence known.

She had not wasted time in coming here because that would imply she had something else to be doing, but there had been no point.

At least it was calm here. A lot of Berk had a chaotic, wild feel to it, but this place was just clear enough so as to be more ordered. She did not have to worry about watching her back, here. Danger could only come from above, from outside the cove itself, and could not sneak up on her any further than that.

She did not expect to be attacked, but that was her way of thinking, a good, safe way of seeing things. It was nice to be able to relax it a bit here.

Astrid moved over to sit by the shallows of the pond, still trying to think. What was different? Why had the dragon attacked her on her most recent excursion, but not before that?

What did she not understand?

The answer to that question was simple. When it came to this dragon, she understood nothing. Her training was worthless. The book of dragons was just as worthless. Nobody living knew anything of this species, and the same could be said of any kind of dragon that acted tame. She had no support, no aid, and nobody to go to for advice. It was her, a dragon, and a dead man, who was of course not at all helpful.

She was not used to being the one to forge the path. Warriors learned from their superiors, and eventually if they were good enough, taught others, passing the information on. The best of the best might create new techniques or new ways to fight, but people like that were rarer still, legends among Vikings.

Or forgotten entirely. Nobody knew who had invented the ax, for instance, and nobody cared who had first taught how to use it. That, to her, was even more powerful. To be so well-known that what one created was common knowledge, so widespread and established that it outlasted all other memory.

But she had not planned to be one of those people. She had planned to master what there was, not create. Now, she was forced to create, or at least to solve. That was not her specialty.

Hel, she couldn't even figure out how to stop the tame dragon from attacking her. How was she going to do this?

Astrid stared into the water, not liking her own reflection. That woman was weak, her hair short, her muscles small and atrophied, a visible sign of weakness still wrapped around one arm. That woman did not know what to do.

She would not be that woman. She was going to get the old Astrid back. She defiantly swiped at her reflection with her ax, disturbing the water.

Through the small waves she had created, she could see the bottom of the pond, a mass of old sticks, water plants, mud, and...

And... she stuck her hand into the water, grabbing an old hilt lying half-buried by mud. It came up easily, revealing an entire knife, undamaged, just beginning to show signs of rust.

She pulled it out of the water, setting it on the bank beside her ax.

This had to be Hiccup's knife. He always carried one, very likely not for defense so much as for cutting things, or any of the other utility purposes a knife could serve for. Why was it here, in the water?

There was something to this. Hiccup did not throw away useful things; even the tools left here were not supposed to be here. But she had not seen him lose a knife on that last day, so he had to have lost and purposefully left it at some other time. It was in the shallows, fairly visible; why did he leave it?

Here, in the place he kept his dragon. The same dragon who bolted the moment Astrid's father had touched his sword hilt.

Pieces began falling into place, but she did not totally see it yet. She placed the knife on top of the twin blades of her ax, struggling to understand. He had taken it here, and the dragon...

The dragon would have acted as it did with her father, not liking the weapon.

So he threw it away, or maybe the dragon took it from him and left it there. That made sense. She had done something similar by not showing up armed the first time, or even by dropping her ax in the pursuit on that last day, depending on how far back the dragon remembered. It _knew_ she used axes, and took her not having one the same way it took Hiccup disarming himself. It had to be that.

_Now_ she understood. This new ax, this stupid, badly-fitting ax, was what had earned her that rough treatment and disappointed look.

She groaned wordlessly, utterly frustrated at how long it had taken her to figure all of this out. It was so obvious in retrospect. Then she cursed both Gobber and herself for good measure, for ensuring she had an ax and brought it out to the dragon. She should have listened to her discomfort with it and left it at home...

Only to bring it at some point and cause the exact same setback, possibly destroying whatever she had managed to create in the meantime. Maybe it was better she had gone through this now, rather than later.

Okay, now she knew. So how to reestablish their trust?

She could just show up without any weapon, as before... but nothing said the dragon would trust her. It was a creature of demonstration, it seemed. Hiccup had left the knife there, a visible sign of his willingness to cooperate on friendly terms.

So she needed to do the equivalent. Leave her ax with the dragon, visibly discarding it in favor of peace.

Such elaborate means of keeping the peace. Fine. She certainly wouldn't mind putting this new ax to an actual use that did not involve her carrying it around. She could tell Gobber with a straight face that it was serving an important purpose that only it could. She would just leave out that said purpose was reassuring a dragon. That was likely not what he had intended it be used for.

She would also have to use her training ax for everything else, as she had no coin to get another actual weapon, but that was fine. Weapons were free to borrow during raids, and sooner or later she could save up the money from odd jobs. It was not an urgent matter.

Her course of action clear, Astrid left the cove. Not today, and probably not tomorrow, but soon enough. She would go back once more and fix what her lack of knowledge had damaged. Things were looking up.

* * *

That night, Astrid joined her parents on a semi-rare trip to the Great Hall for dinner. It seemed her parents wanted to mingle a bit. She was fine with that, but as their mingling generally turned to old stories she had already heard, she slipped away to go sit somewhere a bit more interesting. Her father watched her go with a knowing look. Maybe he wished he was able to do the same.

That did leave her the question of where to sit. She decided to join some of the younger people of Berk, the children who were just a little too young to be considered for dragon training next year. The ones who would be training next year were crowded around Ruffnut, and Astrid had no desire to sit at a table that heavily occupied.

Besides, the younger children liked her, and she them. They looked up to her with awe, and she didn't mind setting a good example or answering their questions, unlike any of the other teens. So, she picked up a bowl of stew, a small mug of watered-down mead, and went to sit with some of the children.

There were seven children at the table she had chosen, ranging from thirteen to ten. Just old enough to be without supervision, but young enough to not be allowed at the table of the older teens. She picked an open seat at one end and began to eat without saying anything. They would start a conversation as soon as they wanted to, and at the moment all seemed more interested in tearing their food apart in imitation of the older Vikings.

As she ate, she recalled something about each of the children at the table. Both of Fishlegs younger cousins, Harla and Hilda were there, along with three boys from the extended Thorston clan, as well as a boy and girl from smaller families. She didn't actually know the last two, which wasn't that odd.

It ended up being one of the last two, the boy, who started talking to her first, everything about him radiating reluctance. "Are we in trouble?"

"Should you be?" she asked, knowing full well that there was probably something that meant the answer was yes.

"No..." he replied, looking confused.

"Well, good." She smiled disarmingly.

"Mom says..." he trailed off, looking around. "Well, not to talk to you."

That was odd. He had probably heard wrong. "Why not?"

"You're Astrid, right?" He asked, sounding sure. "She says you're not a good influence."

Astrid kept her smile up. That actually kind of hurt a little, definitely more than rumors did. "Why not?"

Now the boy was growing confident, probably forgetting that he shouldn't be talking to her. "You killed the chief's son."

"No, I did not." Seriously, with all the somewhat justified reasons this boy's mother could have had, she had to pick a lie? "So she must be mistaken."

"Mom doesn't like to be told she's wrong," he muttered. "I'm not going to tell her."

"That is fine, you don't have to." What was she going to do, tell him to correct his own mother? This wasn't exactly his fault, and what one woman believed probably didn't matter. "Want to talk about something else?"

"No... mom's looking," he whispered, studiously going back to his food. He was one of the less boisterous Viking children, it seemed, a rarity.

She didn't bother looking around for the boy's mother, instead choosing to finish her meal as if nothing had happened. None of the other children tried to talk to her, and now she suspected there might be a reason for that.

It was a small thing, just a little annoyance, but it irked her far more than it should, because it was one more thing taken from her. She had thought she was done losing things from all that had changed.

A small thing. One more small thing.

On the walk back from the Great Hall she was quiet, not wanting to talk. Her mother and father casually exchanged information, talking more like they had gone on a scouting mission than caught up with friends. That too was normal, and Astrid could tell they had enjoyed themselves. That was good.

Neither of them pressed her on what she had heard, possibly seeing that she didn't want to talk. The rest of that night passed normally. She pushed away the feeling of discontent, resolving in her head to go the very next day and fix things with the dragon. At least that was something she could fix.

* * *

Astrid rose before the sun that morning, intent on getting a little exercise before setting out, only to find her mother already up but still in the house, a rarity.

"Good morning," she remarked, absently running her fingers through her shortened hair and wondering when it would be long enough to pull back and braid. She had almost forgotten how long it took hair to grow, it had been so long since hers was anything but long.

"Good morning to you too," her mother absently replied. "Is today another all-day training session?"

"No, I'm going into the woods today," she revealed. "After a short run."

"Or maybe you should do that some other day," her mother offered politely. "Spend some time in the village today?"

That was a little odd. Normally, her mother didn't really interfere in her schedule. "Anything in particular you want done?" Generally, her mother ran her own errands, but if this was a subtle request for help, Astrid was more than willing to do so.

"Oh no, I was just suggesting you spend some time with your friends," her mother clarified. "Last I heard, Ruffnut has grown quite popular. She might be happy to see an old friend."

Okay, something was up. "Mom, I think this is something more than seeing old friends, which Ruffnut and I are not, by the way." Acquaintances at best was more accurate.

Her mother frowned, called out. "I just think you could bear to spend a little time..."

"What?" She really wasn't used to her mother not being straightforward, but generally that meant something was bothering her.

"Improving your reputation," Asa finished sourly, as if knowing Astrid wouldn't like hearing it. "I've been hearing less than complimentary rumors, rumors that might look a little less plausible if you interacted with the rest of Berk."

Was this about that rumor of her killing Hiccup, or was it something else? It didn't really matter which rumor it was. "Mom, I have a job to do. And I shouldn't have to build my reputation. People will forget whatever stupid rumors are floating around."

"Not if you act in a way that supports them," her mother countered. "Spend time with someone, anyone, in the village. Act like a warrior would."

That stung. "And I am not now? Recovering from injury, retraining myself, and doing the duties assigned by the chief?"

"Just think about it," her mother sighed, clearly done trying to convince her. "You might have to work to offset how people see you for a while. You _are_ working with a dragon, permission from the chief notwithstanding."

Astrid shrugged. "If they don't like it, they can complain to him. Or me, if they want." She would rather face open opposition than whispered dissent, and nothing they could say would change her plans.

But... she didn't want to totally ignore her mother's advice either. "I will spend time in the village tomorrow. Today I really do have something planned."

"As long as you are thinking about it," her mother agreed. "Some things need to be tended to, even if they should go fine on their own. People are not reasonable in how they think of each other, and what they think can matter."

* * *

Asa's words echoed in Astrid's mind as she trudged towards the dragon's den later that day, ax on her belt, ready to be discarded. Really, while Asa sounded right, it felt wrong. What people thought shouldn't matter as much as the truth. What she was doing was honorable, and that was all that should matter.

Astrid passed the rotting boar's head without slowing. It was not yet noon, and this time around she had the rest of the day to spend working with the dragon... assuming this went as planned. If not, then she was stuck. Again.

She really hoped that wouldn't be the case. The epiphany brought about by that knife had felt right, but it was possible the track she was on was completely wrong. If so, she would soon be knocked, possibly literally, back to square one.

She almost passed the dragon's den, the clearing and cave, without noticing, only seeing it because of the large pit of darkness. Missing it was understandable. For one thing, all of the boar carcasses were gone as if they had never been there. The clearing didn't stink anymore, which made it much less obvious.

For another, there were branches piled across what had been clear grass. She didn't know why those were there any more than she had understood the purpose of so many old carcasses. This dragon was strange, but in a way that felt like there was an underlying logic to it, a common thread she could not see.

She couldn't see it, but she knew very well what it was. Hiccup. Whatever he had done was the thread, and that meant she would never truly understand it.

But she was a Viking warrior, so she would move forward anyway.

Was the dragon here? It had seemed to be lurking in the area before, but this was a different time of day. She might have to wait a few hours.

Or, it could always stalk out of the cave right in front of her, its paws deftly weaving between the strangely arrayed branches, its eyes narrow slits.

She put a hand to her ax, only to be snarled at.

"I know what I did wrong," she announced. Of course, it did not understand her, but something in her voice must have soothed it a little.

She needed to throw her ax away, or otherwise stow it somewhere obviously inconvenient to get at in a pinch. But to do that, she needed to take it out of the holster.

The dragon didn't want to let that happen. It snarled every time her hand went anywhere near the ax, and she strongly suspected that to actually lift the handle would be to invite another painful tackle and disarmament, totally defeating the purpose of her coming out here. So...

An idea occurred to her. She didn't like it, but it refused to leave her mind. No touching the ax, but nothing about her belt loop...

Which was a part of her skirt, another paneled affair just like the first. She couldn't just take off a belt, the whole thing was one piece. And unless she wanted to try doing a handstand in front of a dangerous dragon, she couldn't just let the ax slide out.

"Guess it's a good thing you're a dragon," she muttered, pulling her skirt down, her hands far from her ax. "And a very, very good thing nobody else is here."

There. She stepped away from her ax and skirt, noting that the dragon's eyes had softened considerably the moment she moved away from the weapon. "We are not making a habit of this. My normal state involves wearing clothes," she asserted.

Now, how to get her skirt back from the ax? A funny way of looking at it, but an apt one. She couldn't touch the ax, but she could touch the skirt...

She picked up the panels of her skirt, letting the ax dangle. Now she could turn it over, let the ax fall free, and reclaim her clothing...

But the dragon didn't seem to object to her holding the skirt, and she wanted to put the ax somewhere a little more secure than the ground.

So, she quickly walked over to a tree, and with a bit of maneuvering managed to lodge the ax tightly between two low branches, lifting away her skirt in the process.

Then she hastily put it back on, glad to be done with that. "There. No weapons, so no attacking me, right?" Spoken aloud for her own benefit more than anything, though she was sure to make herself sound calm. Animals could understand tone, if not meaning.

The dragon chuffed contentedly, back to normal. It approached the tree, eyeing the ax. What did it see, aside from the obvious?

Did it see an agreement, a way of proving her intentions? Or did it see something else? A promise? Similarity to its last trainer?

She didn't know how it thought. That was going to be a recurring problem; she could tell.

The dragon pawed lightly at the flat of the blade, probably staring at its own reflection. Then it lost interest, turning back to her.

Astrid was struck by how little she had planned for this moment. Here was where she should be rolling out some training program, putting into practice a plan of some sort. If this was any other kind of animal, she would have been able to create something ahead of time.

Winging it, while an ironically accurate turn of phrase for the situation, was not sitting well with her. Not when the last time she came here she left bruised and battered because of a very simple mistake.

This was stupidly dangerous. Why were her parents allowing it? Forget getting a dragon to follow orders, just getting it to calm down had probably given her a minor concussion!

The obvious rejoinder to that objection came to her almost immediately, her common sense overpowering the brief flash of uncertainty. They were letting this happen because she had convinced them to, and because the chief said she could, and because they believed it was possible. Her father believed it was possible after seeing this dragon interact with her for all of two minutes.

There was potential here. She had a debt to repay. Those two things drove her to try something only one person before her had ever done.

If only Hiccup had left instructions. Something, anything. A step-by-step list on gaining control of a dragon would have been ideal, but she would have settled for hints or insight of any kind. Anything to prove 'yes, it's possible, and someone else figured it out' beyond the very existence of this dragon and its temperament!

This was like being shown one of Hiccup's inventions, fully operational, and being told to use it. She might be able to figure it out, or she might get herself killed in the process, and no matter what, she would never be able to explain how to make another one if asked.

The dragon padded forward, again deftly stepping between the branches it had for some reason strewn around. What were those for? It didn't matter.

It stopped just short of her, casting her a considering glance. It was willing to see what she would do next. But what would she do? How could she just step into Hiccup's boots without knowing what he did to get that far?

Nobody should be expected to so completely leap into the void like this. She wanted guidance, to be shown what needed to be done. Give her a list and she could get to the end, but give her a blank page and she would be stuck.

She was a doer, not a thinker. This was a thinker's work. But Fishlegs could never work up the nerve to do this, and there were no other thinkers on Berk. Besides, none of them would have whatever small connection she had forged with this dragon already.

She was going over things she had already thought of and dismissed earlier... but it had been so easy to see what needed to be done then, when it was in the future. Here, now, she had a relatively large, almost ludicrously deadly dragon, and she had no idea how to get it to listen. That it tolerated her, only unarmed, wasn't even her doing.

She was the only one for the job, but she was totally unsuited to do it.

And that meant she was going to have to be very, very careful.

Or maybe being careful was a bad idea. Hiccup probably hadn't been, given he always ran headfirst into danger, complaining sarcastically all the while, at least during raids. Had he approached this like he approached raids, pushing some overly complex contraption right into danger as if unaware of the peril, only to run away screaming when it all went to pieces? She couldn't see how he would have survived that, but maybe that was the key.

To run headlong into the challenge and ignore everything else until it sent her back, and then to try over and over again until something worked.

What were the odds that Hiccup had found one challenge perfectly suited to what he already did with every task?

The dragon was still staring. Waiting. What was she going to do?

She was going to train this dragon, somehow. And she was probably going to fail, again and again, before she found the key. That was how it must work.

At least the dragon seemed willing to let her try.

Her mind made up, she began to think. What to try first?

_**Author's Note:**_** A bit of a short chapter today, but only because I both did not want to stretch it, and knew this was the cutting point. Next chapter is one big scene, and that makes it a bit of a pain to fit it in with this one, which is a little stunted on its own, but cannot take from the next. Ah well.**

**Also, a note. I've long since noticed that Astrid's stupidly impractical skirt from the movies is great for exactly one thing: being anything but a skirt. Seriously, I could and did think up at least three uses for it in a survival situation (I only ended up using the one), and now here it's great as a way of moving the ax without drawing Toothless' ire. He gets that an ax lifted by stiff panels is no threat whatsoever. I can't think of any other article of clothing shown in the movie that could do that (and helmets don't count as Astrid both doesn't wear one and would have had to throw it away if she did). And of course she's just practical and confident enough to take it off to use it for said purposes when the only one around is an entirely disinterested reptile, meaning I can actually work these two uses into the story without making her act out-of-character. (That being said, I've run out of believable uses for it in non life-or-death scenarios, so don't expect to see any more in this story.)**


	10. Sanctioned Standoff

The dragon stared at Astrid, waiting. What was it waiting for?

She had no idea. She had already gotten to the end of her planning, which had consisted of 'discard the ax and hope that was the problem', and she had nothing else.

But this needed to be done, and she was done worrying and doubting herself. Hiccup did it, so she could do it. The dragon was already calm and receptive, which had to be an advantage Hiccup had not had, starting out.

She met the dragon's acid-green eyes and once again saw something indescribable in them. That did not matter either. It was probably a lingering familiarity that probably came from those weeks of staring at it on the raft; nothing more. What mattered here, now, was that she needed to...

What would her first step be? Probably getting it used to her presence, her touch. It had become accustomed to her on the raft, but she could not assume it would still be so comfortable after the whole ordeal with the ax.

As she decided on her first step, she had a very dry, sarcastic thought. She was going to be _sure_ to write all of this down when she got home. She would not do what Hiccup did and leave no hints for successors. That was not planning for failure, it was common sense... and also admittedly planning for failure. But she was not going to fail in a way that meant she would need a successor.

Enough thinking. That wasn't her specialty. She had a small task, so she would do it.

Astrid stepped forward, trying not to make any sudden movements or sounds, though that was difficult when the web of dry, dead branches spanning the clearing cracked noisily at the slightest pressure. How in the world did the dragon manage to make no noise walking on this with such large paws?

It let her approach, watching curiously.

Curiosity. Was that the reason it had no problem with her coming around? She hadn't thought predators could get bored. She was going to write that down too.

She stopped maybe a step away from bumping into its broad chest, still staring into its eyes. So it had no issues with her getting close...

Next, she tentatively stuck out a hand, laying it on the side of the dragon's head, by the underside of the jaw. This position might let her yank her hand away before it could bite it off.

She recalled the lightning speed in which it had pinned her. No, it could probably do whatever it wanted before she could react.

But it did not bite. The scales were dry and smooth, as she remembered, though not quite as dry as on the raft. There was a vague oily sheen to them.

Not important. She moved to the side, feeling its careful gaze on her as she ran her hands along it. It was as still as a statue, though the head tilted to the side to keep her in its line of sight.

Getting it used to her touch was important; she knew as much from what everyone on Berk knew of working with animals. If it was used to her she would be far less likely to aggravate it in the future with some unexpected contact. And who knew how she was going to end up controlling it; she might have to ride it even if it did not fly, just to keep up with it on the ground during combat.

Now there was an interesting idea. There were stories of warriors from other lands riding animals into combat, mostly horses. It was said to be devastating against masses of ground troops... though those stories usually involved charges of many men and horses. One rider and beast might very well be overwhelmed like that.

Tactics could come once she had something real to base them off of. She ran her hands along its back, feeling taut muscles. Everything seemed fine, though she has no idea what would indicate any sort of problem, any sickness or injury. It wasn't like she knew anything about how a dragon, especially a Night Fury, was supposed to look or feel. For all she knew, it was horribly diseased and insane, and just not showing it in ways she would recognize.

Astrid stopped moving, confident that it was fine with her touching its side and head. What about its wings? They were folded up on the back, just within reach. She stretched up to touch one.

The wing flicked just out of her reach right before she could make contact.

She looked over at its head, to find two unamused eyes staring back.

So, no touching the wings. She was going to go ahead and assume the tail was similarly off-limits.

Did she need to break it of that reluctance? Eventually, yes. The tail was where the prosthetic went, and she might need to touch the wings at some point in the future.

Her goal for today had devolved into this. Getting the dragon to let her touch its wings. Small steps. At least now she could see said steps instead of falling blindly. That was definitely an improvement.

Astrid met the ever-present stare with one of her own, one she hoped conveyed a no-nonsense tone, along with her voice, which definitely did. "Don't be a baby. We both know I'm not going to do anything to them." It needed to let her touch its wings; she wasn't taking no for an answer so easily.

The dragon snorted and shook its head, those odd frills lining the back of its jaw shaking with it. It did not seem amused.

Well, it probably didn't understand her intent. She jumped a little, managing to tag the wing with the tip of her finger before the dragon could move it out of the way. "Not going to hurt any more than that," she rephrased soothingly. A tiny little tap wouldn't hurt-

Then she saw stars. Her vision slowly returned, oddly sideways, with a large, concerned muzzle nosing her. She pushed it away, sitting up as quickly as possible.

Her head hurt. She put a hand to her temple, discovering a large, very sore spot. That was going to be a nice bruise.

She glared at the dragon, working out what had happened. It hit her with the bony leading edge of its wing.

It whined quietly and nosed her side, as if apologizing.

"You had better be sorry," she muttered crossly. A few more hits like that and she would be forced to stop for the day, just to recover.

Luckily, this wasn't quite as bad as the last time she had hit her head. No nausea, no dizziness. Just a throbbing ache and what was likely to be a colorful bruise. Nothing she couldn't ignore.

The dragon had circled her at some point between now and when she had been hit, so she had to turn around to reach its side and by extension its wings.

It rumbled... guiltily? She might be making a big mistake in ascribing any of its reactions to guilt, but what else could they be? She didn't know animals, but it certainly seemed to be that. Not meeting her eyes, ears down, reserved sounds. It had to be that.

And if it was guilty... She pointed to the wing, and then held out her hand. "Come on, you owe me." Silly, but she was going to keep trying things, no matter how silly. Besides, talking out loud helped her remain focused, even if the dragon of course didn't understand a word of what she was saying.

It eyed her uncertainly for a long moment, before slowly extending a wing, clearly ready to yank it back in an instant… Or drive it forward, hitting her head once again.

Astrid _really _hoped it wouldn't do that again. Her hand very slowly moved up to the wings, eventually making contact with the leading edge. She made sure to stay away from the thin skin between the strong edges, figuring that was what the dragon was sensitive about letting her touch. She would be sensitive about such a vulnerable place too, if she had one. Forget her ax, the shell hidden in her arm wrap would let her cut that if the dragon didn't react fast enough.

She might have had to exploit that if it wasn't already grounded. As it was, damaging the wings, temporarily or permanently, meant nothing because it already couldn't fly.

Besides, she wasn't sure she wanted to go that far. Seriously hurting something this dangerous seemed like a good way to get killed. Of course, Hiccup had done exactly that…

Astrid ran her fingers along the smaller, streamlined scales of the wing edge, and smiled to herself. This was progress, however small. It was letting her touch its wings.

Now that she had actually gotten somewhere, she regretted not bringing any sort of reward. That too was basic knowledge. To train something, one needed both punishment and reward. There was even a saying for the same principle in dealing with other people, 'honey and the hatchet,' though that applied more to making sure criticism was taken well. The same general idea. But she had no honey, only her metaphorical hatchet. Whatever that was.

Forge ahead, fail, and try again. She needed to know what would work. So first, she would rule out the easy options.

She gently pushed the wing away, letting the dragon know she was done touching it. It obligingly folded the wing back into position. At least it was still and _mostly _cooperative.

Then she moved around to the front of it, staring sternly. This thing liked to make eye contact, so she would use that. It seemed to be working so far.

She noticed its eyes flicking to her forehead for a moment. So, it could see the bruise? She could take advantage of that...

Forge ahead. Hiccup had hurt it and survived; was she less brave than him?

She very deliberately pointed to the bruise, drawing its attention.

"Your fault." Her voice was heavy with condemnation. She drew back her arm and slapped the dragon across the muzzle, not letting herself think about what she was doing. Try and fail.

It reared back, utterly shocked, and pawed at its nose. She almost laughed at how exaggerated a reaction that was, especially given she had not hit as hard as she could, even in this weakened state.

It glared at her, something in its demeanor not entirely angry, and shook its head, snorting wildly. So, hitting it in the nose was disorienting? She was going to write that-

No. She was not going to record weaknesses, on second thought. Ways to work with it, yes, but not weaknesses. There was always the chance someone would find what she wrote and use it against her.

A ludicrous mental image of Snotlout slapping the dragon and then stabbing it passed through her mind. No recording weaknesses. Maybe later, once the village was less likely to want to take advantage of such knowledge.

But what if the village needed to know about things like this? What if the dragon went mad and attacked? She could be dooming people to die by not sharing the information.

She was going to have to figure that out later. There was no way she would forget slapping a Night Fury in the face and getting away with it, so she had time to think about what do do with the information.

If she had indeed gotten away with it. The dragon certainly didn't seem like it intended to retaliate, back to staring. Waiting. She still didn't know why it waited for her to do things. It felt… _wrong_, in a way, for such a large, deadly creature to be so passive.

But whatever the reason, it _did _wait for her to act, and she would take full advantage of that. She approached again, branches crunching at every step. What next? It was good with her touching its wings, and she could do the same with the tail whenever needed, so that was done. It didn't have any other issues with her touching it, though of course she had not tested every possible place. The essentials, the sides, back and head were all fine.

It was used to her. She would not need to spend weeks working on that; weeks had already been spent on the raft, and apparently that was enough. So, what next? She was facing a void again, not knowing the next small step.

She wanted to train it to follow commands. It had offered a wing upon request, so clearly that was possible. Maybe she should try something simple?

Commands taught to the more intelligent sheep of Berk ran through her mind, brought up and dismissed in turn. Fetch? No, a little too complicated for now. Stay? How would she know it was obeying her and not just watching her leave? Attack? Out of the question, and the sheep didn't really know that one either, no matter how hard Mildew tried to teach it to Fungus, his pet sheep.

Shake? A simple trick, one that had no real use other than to demonstrate that the animal could learn and remember. It had paws, and the command was easy for sheep to learn, if not remember long-term.

Yes, that would work. Step two: teach it something simple, like shake, and establish that it would follow orders.

She put both hands on the dragon's chest, running them down to its right paw. It watched her curiously.

Really, she would have felt self-conscious at this point if it wasn't a dragon. It just stood there, watching. Always watching. She was not sure she would like that, given how blindly she was forging ahead, if there was enough intelligence behind those eyes to recognize that. There was a reason she trained alone. She wanted people to see the finished result, not the fumbling that invariably came with learning anything new and difficult. They only got to see it once she was ready.

At least the same held for this. She was alone, and would be alone until she decided it was safe to bring the dragon into contact with other Vikings. She could thank the dragon for that. If the excuse of 'it doesn't like people besides me' hadn't been so obviously true, she would probably have had to deal with spectators betting on whether or not it would eat her on any given day. Vikings did like to watch dangerous things.

Back to the dragon. Really, where was her own training? She should not, under any circumstances, be taking her mind off of the animal in front of her, no matter how docilely it seemed to be waiting.

Shake. She pulled futilely at the paw, entirely incapable of lifting it off the ground. The dragon warbled, breathing down the back of her neck as it leaned its head down to watch her.

She grunted in exertion, putting all of her strength into the task, hoping the dragon would get the idea. "Come on, lift your stupid-"

Suddenly there was no weight to be lifted, the paw moving up on its own. She fell on her backside, totally overbalanced by the sudden change.

"Come on!" Every time! She scrambled to her feet, inexplicably furious. "You did that on purpose."

The dragon, far from acting innocently confused, leered at her and showed its gums in some mocking parody of a smile. It had actually done that intentionally!

She slapped it again, harder this time, but it did not recoil. Instead, its eyes narrowed, its weight shifting forward.

Oh no. She had pushed it too far. She had no weapon, no chance of escaping the claws and teeth that were surely coming-

It continued to shift, and then a black fin was slapping _her_, striking a glancing blow to the face that knocked her to the side. Nothing else happened afterward.

She put a hand up to her stinging cheek, more than a little relieved. Maybe this was why Hiccup had survived long enough to tame it. It liked to copy things, and Hiccup was about as non-violent as a Viking could be without trying.

All of that didn't make her any less mad, it just made her less afraid. She slapped it again. "No."

It slapped her, punctuating the hit with a soft bark, clearly mimicking her.

She was training it, not the other way around! She slapped it and then blocked the return hit with her other arm, grinning savagely. "No."

It responded by deftly flicking its tail past her arm to slap her from the other side.

She would not be beaten. Ignoring the absolute absurdity of the situation, she slapped it again, and then blocked with both arms-

Only to have her legs swept from underneath her, landing her on her backside once again.

At least it did the same thing every time. She got to her feet, unwilling to give in, and began the exchange once more. Slap from one side, then from the other, then a small hop to counter the tailsweep.

The dragon's eyes narrowed in concentration, and it raised its tail threateningly.

She was beginning to enjoy this. "What next?"

It swept the tail out at her from the side, and she prepared to block-

Then one of its paws, the same one she had been trying to lift, jabbed her in the stomach, completely knocking the air out of her. She doubled over, hating the all-too-familiar feeling of gasping for air but being unable to breathe in. It would go away in a moment, it always did when she had the wind knocked out of her in sparring, but it was a horrible feeling all the same.

Once again, the dragon seemed to regret actually hurting her, and nosed at her worriedly until she shoved it away and stood.

No more sparring today. Maybe some other day. She had actually had fun with that for a brief moment, but the odds of getting hurt again were too high to keep going right now.

"We'll settle that later," she asserted, more for herself than for it. Right now, she still had one simple task. Teach it to shake.

She decided to sit down this time, crossing her legs. Now it couldn't let her overbalance. She reached out and began pulling at the paw.

It seemed to understand that she was not in the mood for more messing around, and meekly let her push the paw wherever she would, holding it limply.

Okay... now how to do this? She had never actually taught anything to an animal. They weren't as smart as people; it might be harder than she anticipated to get the dragon to actually connect a command and an action in its head.

There was nothing she could do but try. She held her right hand out, face up, and grabbed the top of the paw as best she could with her left.

"Shake," she enunciated slowly and clearly, before guiding the paw to rest on top of her upturned hand, miming the common action Vikings tended to forgo in favor of a good head-butt or shoulder punch. She shuddered to think of how dangerous teaching a dragon those greetings would be, especially if it actually learned the correct actions.

After a good few moments of 'shaking' its paw, she let it go limp. Then she repeated the entire process, wondering whether twice was enough. Given how many times it took a sheep to learn not to run into a new fence, she was not optimistic.

But she might as well check. She took her hand off the paw, letting it return to the ground, and held out her right hand as before. "Shake," she commanded.

The dragon stared down at her for a long moment before doing exactly what she had shown it, down to lightly moving its paw up and down at the end.

She stared up at it, almost unable to believe it was that easy. Surely teaching a dragon a trick took more than two repetitions.

Maybe comparing this animal to a sheep was unfair.

Whether or not the dragon would remember her command and what it meant was another question, one she could not determine the answer to today. Should she teach it something else in the meantime?

No, best not to get overconfident. She would come back another day and be sure it remembered one command before making things more complicated by introducing more. But if all of this worked as she hoped it would, this would be far easier than she had anticipated.

How long would it take to teach the dragon enough that she felt comfortable showing what it could do to other Vikings? Well, she wanted to go slowly, but at this rate... a few weeks? That still felt too fast.

She knew she was smiling as she stood, but she didn't bother hiding it. She had no rewards aside from praise, and if that was all she had, she would use it.

"Good dragon."

She almost choked on the words halfway, struck by the absolute absurdity of what she was saying. This was a mortal enemy of her people-

No, she reminded herself, it was Hiccup's tame dragon. She was not taking some random raiding dragon and praising it, she was praising the dragon that saved her life and did not want to hurt her. This was not any dragon.

Maybe it would be better to give it a name to differentiate it in her own mind? Or to use the one Hiccup had given it.

No. It was not a pet, and she would not grow too attached. Besides, she needed to show this to the village eventually, and using a name would just make it more likely they would not take what she had accomplished seriously. Even the Vikings who named their weapons were treated with just a little less respect because of it. She would not go down that path.

Still, this was good. "Very good dragon," she praised, petting it where she had slapped it earlier. It was smarter than a sheep; it would understand that she could be nice or mean as its behaviour required.

But it did not respond as she had expected. There was no happy sound, or even mimicry of her praise as it had done with her punishment. It turned away, ears drooping, and walked into the forest, moving slowly.

Astrid stood in confusion, watching it go. Was it coming back?

No. It kept going, moving slowly.

She could let it go... but something was bothering her about this. She needed to be sure her praise was effective. So she followed, intent on seeing where it was going, and hopefully figuring out why she had not elicited the expected response.

She had a few more hours before she needed to get back to the village. Even if it was just going to wander aimlessly, she could spare the time to be sure. And it was moving slowly enough that she could follow...

Time passed. They walked deeper and deeper into the forest, in the vague direction of the center of the island. Also in the direction of the village, but that was not at all odd. Where they had been was on the far end of the island; going anywhere else from there would involve getting closer to the village.

She wasn't entirely sure if the dragon knew she was following. It certainly showed no signs of chasing her off, or even acknowledging her presence.

Or maybe it didn't care if she followed. That was a possibility too.

It took about an hour to get to where the dragon had clearly meant to go. The first Astrid knew of them being there was the dragon stopping and sitting on its hind paws and tail, looking down at something in front of it.

She slowed to a stop beside it, confused. What was it looking at? There was-

A drop, only a few feet from them, obscured by a few dense bushes. She shoved the bushes aside and got a good look at what the dragon was watching from its higher vantage point.

She recognized the place immediately. A pond, a sinkhole, rocks she intended to climb at some point. They had come back to the cove.

To the place the dragon had been imprisoned.

To the place it had interacted with Hiccup.

She turned to look at the dragon. Its eyes were downcast, and every aspect of its position and body language seemed to scream 'depressed.'

Could animals be depressed? She didn't know enough to be able to answer that question, but going by what she saw, the answer was a definite yes. It was depressed, probably mourning the rider it had lost.

She reminded it of him? Or maybe she was so different that the contrast reminded it. She couldn't be sure what she had done to trigger it coming out here to mourn.

The practical side of her was glad she had seen this, because it meant the dragon was very likely going to be able to remember her commands a week from now, if it could remember a rider it had lost weeks ago. The less practical side of her, the part of her that she kept quiet when around Vikings, was wishing she had not seen this.

Astrid did not like feeling inadequate, and this just drove home how lackluster a replacement she was. She had no idea how to get a dragon to like her so much it mourning her passing more than a month afterward. She was lucky it seemed to be interested in what she intended and tolerated her presence. Getting to a place where she was sure it would be loyal to her was going to be a challenge, she realized, because she had no idea how to tell the difference between casual interest and loyalty.

Had she seen it do anything with Hiccup that indicated loyalty? Well, it had not attacked her for his sake... but she could say the same of that moment in the woods with her father. It had not attacked her father either, and her presence was the only reason she could think of for that.

Anything else? She remembered them almost arguing during that horrible thrill ride, Hiccup's dry comments that seemed to spur the dragon on in spite of what he was saying. Was that its loyalty? It really seemed like the opposite of loyalty to her.

Maybe she wouldn't know. Or maybe it would be obvious when she had reached a point where loyalty was assured.

A few weeks had felt optimistic for a reason. She needed to be sure it would not just ignore her when her commands mattered. How could she test that?

Another blind step she did not know how to take. But now she had a lot longer to plan. There was no set deadline for when she needed to produce results. How could there be? She was doing something nobody had ever done.

Hiccup. He had done it. Actually, now that she thought about it, she could see a timeline. He had only taken a month, so it would be reasonable for someone to think to hold her to that same deadline.

She was _not _going to hold herself to that. Hiccup was far more suited to this task than she was, and she did not hope to match him in fostered loyalty.

The dragon was still staring with eyes that clearly weren't seeing the cove itself so much as the memories. What did it see?

She would never know, and it could not tell her. It was just an intelligent animal mourning a loved owner. She could only do her best to work with it.

At least this, of all things, had precedent. Mildew had not been the original owner of Fungus; the sheep had come with one of his short-lived wives. That he and the animal were so similar and so inseparable was encouraging... though she never wanted to pattern any part of herself or anything she interacted with off of those two. They were as disgusting and disagreeable as their names implied.

But... she did not immediately reject the idea of asking Mildew about it. In theory, he might have valuable advice. In practice, he would never help her. But were there other Vikings with pets who had lost previous owners?

She was going to have to look into that. Maybe there was a little help to be had after all.

But that help would be in the village, not out here. She took one last look at the mourning dragon, which had not moved since they got here, and began to walk away, around the cove. She did not have to leave yet, but it looked like they weren't going to be making any more progress today, and she was already halfway back to the village.

As she made her way home, she went over what she had accomplished. The dragon was okay with her touching it wherever needed, and did not kill or even badly injure her for disciplining it... though it had seemed to take the slaps in stride after the first time. She wasn't sure if it saw a slap to the snout as a punishment or a game now. That was a bit annoying.

She had also taught it a simple command, one it would by all appearances be able to remember later. That was amazing progress, all in all. Commands were half of all she needed to accomplish, the other half being loyalty...

Which, she summarized in her head, she had no idea how to get. Maybe it would come with time. Or maybe there was some specific gesture, like with the ax, that would earn it. That was going to prove difficult.

Worth the effort, all in all, but difficult. All of this was worth the effort. She believed that now more than ever, because today had been an actual step forward, along with recovering from her accidental step back. She liked the warm glow that came with knowing she had made actual progress.

Nobody was home by the time she reached her hut, a few hours before sunset. That was actually convenient. She wanted some time to write down what she had learned, and writing was...

Well, it wasn't easy for her. She knew how to write, but she had never really practiced it. What was the point in practicing it, she had reasoned, when there were other more useful skills available to hone?

As a result of that attitude, while she could write well enough, it was a slower process than she would like. She needed to concentrate to write with any reasonable speed, and concentration could not come when two other people were going about their lives in the same hut. Especially this hut, where sound was not nearly muffled enough by the walls.

She pulled out another unused parchment from Hiccup's things, along with the same charcoal pencil from the last time she had needed to write. What would she write down?

Not the weakness, especially now that she had noticed the dragon didn't really react to subsequent hits there. It was possible the first time had just been shock.

Eventually, she ended up writing very little:

'The dragon is capable of tricks and mockery. It seems to respond in kind. It cooperates when needed. It can learn a simple trick in very little time.'

And one more thing, written in smaller runes underneath.

'It mourns its last owner.'

That wasn't nearly as useful as the rest, but it felt like something that should be recorded. Anyone who for whatever reason wanted to know what she had learned would see that and take it as truth, which it was. At least one person other than Stoick really did miss Hiccup.

Well, one dragon. Close enough.

She put the parchment away and headed outside, savoring the glow of progress while it lasted by taking her practice ax and dismembering a few targets. Today had worked out pretty well.

_**Author's Note:**_** Yes, the title of this chapter is a deliberate play on the scene name 'Forbidden Friendship' from the first movie. That does not, by the way, mean that this is necessarily Astrid's equivalent of that scene, just that it bears some twisted resemblance to it. This story is far from over, only a third over as of this chapter.**


	11. Hunting the Intangible

The morning sun was shining on the training dummies arrayed in Astrid's backyard, and she had her training ax in hand, but at the moment her mind was not on any of that.

Block a slap from the left, then a slap from the right, jump, quickly step back to avoid the jab-

Astrid shook her head, forcing herself to concentrate, but smiling slightly all the same. That pattern she and the dragon had started kept coming back to mind, a pleasant kind of unfinished business. She wanted to keep going, at some point. What else could the dragon possibly do to best her? A lot, probably.

But today was not a day for that. She didn't want to overwhelm it by showing up every day, and she had made that breakthrough only yesterday.

Today, she had decided, she would heed her mother's advice and be seen in the village. Rumors should take care of themselves in time, but she might as well speed that along.

But what would she do all day in the village? She had no responsibility, there, and loitering in the Great Hall was a very boring way to spend a day. She had already finished with her morning routine, which was why she was standing behind her family's hut with her training ax, but she wasn't going to spend the rest of the day on that. What needed to be done?

Well, she needed her training ax sharpened and generally looked over. The longer she put that off, the more likely it would need fixing. As she wouldn't be training with it much today, now was a good time.

She would figure out the rest later. With a light heart, she set off, not even bothering to go through her hut, instead running around it as she had done before.

She really did feel light, almost too light, despite the training ax. What was-

Her real ax. Either her old one or the new one. The former was gone for good, and the latter hanging from a tree on the other side of the island. She mourned one and didn't care much about the other, but at least now she understood the lightness.

There was something she could look into today. Odd jobs to begin earning money to put towards another ax, as high-quality weapons were not something anyone could take for free outside of borrowing whatever was needed in the midst of a raid. That might be a little awkward eventually; she would have to carefully request a good, _normal_ ax from the man who had gifted her the other one.

He would have to understand she didn't want or need to adjust to a new kind of weapon. She was good with what she had before.

But that was in the future, and today she was in a good mood that she would not lose if she could help it. She walked through the village with a confident smile on her face, as she had back before everything had gotten so strange.

That smile did not falter when she saw there was a line outside of Gobber's forge, Vikings waiting to be helped. She joined the back of the line without complaint. Today was a day to be spent in the village, and standing in line counted, even if it was not the most productive use of time. Really, she was just glad that there was a line today instead of an unruly crowd. Vikings did not often form lines.

The reason everyone was in a line today became apparent as Gobber appeared at the window of the forge building, looking out at his customers. "Oy, next!"

The man at the front of the line protested that. "Wha' about my bola?"

"Ye gave me three misshapen lumps of iron and nothin' else," Gobber remarked. "I'm gonna melt 'em down, because it'd be easier for you ta get a new bola than have someone fix that. Next!" he yelled, roughly shoving the man out of the line. "And any o' ye who cut ahead get yer weapon embedded in yer helmet free o' charge."

Astrid wondered how he would handle someone not currently wearing a helmet. All in all, Gobber seemed to be as bad a mood as hers was good. She would be sure not to aggravate him further.

Eventually, amidst much cursing and muttering, Gobber dealt with the other customers, and Astrid approached the counter.

He nodded to her, noticing her practice ax as she laid it on the lip of the window. "Repair?"

"I'm not sure if it needs anything other than a sharpening," she admitted. "Whatever needs to be done."

"Aye, got it." Gobber disappeared inside, taking her training ax with him.

She waited patiently, hoping nothing else needed to be done. She had very little coin if it did, and while he usually helped his trainees out for free, he was in a bad mood today.

But he returned pretty quickly, and her ax was still in one piece, so clearly not much had been done.

"Nothin' wrong with it, and I sharpened it for ye," he summarized. "Good on ye for takin' yer weapons in _before they need to be replaced_," he announced loudly. "A lot o' these sorry weapons could benefit from that kind o' care!"

Astrid winced, hoping her hearing wasn't damaged. Gobber was not in any way subtle. "Bad day?"

"No raid in a month," he griped, "and yet people are still bringin' in dragon-damaged weapons. They wait until their weapons are fallin' apart, and then expect miracles. At a discount, no less!"

"Maybe offer free inspections after a raid," she suggested on a whim. "That way people will bring their things in immediately, and you'll catch it sooner. Less miracles needed."

"I'm not made o' time," Gobber objected. "That might 'ave worked when I had a skilled apprentice," and at that his face fell. "But," he continued in a lower voice, "between teachin' my new apprentice and fixin' things, I'll 'ave no time to spare on extra inspections."

"New apprentice?" She stepped aside to let the next Viking forward, and stepped around the counter, into the forge building. "That was fast."

"Aye, but 'e's timid," Gobber growled, taking a mace that looked half melted over to the forge. "Ain't ye, Fishlegs?!"

"What, Gobber?!" a familiar voice yelled from the back of the forge. "I can't hear you."

"Deaf, too," Gobber griped. "Get over 'ere!"

Fishlegs squeezed out from between two racks of hammers, narrowly avoiding toppling one. He had on a forge apron, was missing his helmet, and looked singularly overwhelmed. "Right here!"

"Take a break," Gobber instructed. "Yer gonna fall into somethin' sharp in a few moments if ye don't." He slammed the mace down onto the forge, a flurry of sparks exploding from it.

Fishlegs sighed and wiped his brow with a blackened, sooty arm, smearing black across his forehead. "Hi, Astrid, no time to talk."

"Gobber just told you to take a break," she remarked, wondering why Fishlegs, of all people, was Gobber's new apprentice.

"He did?"

Astrid was beginning to believe Gobber was right in calling Fishlegs deaf. "Fishlegs, what's wrong with your hearing?"

"Nothing!" he objected, looking frustrated. "Why would anything be wrong with my hearing? Gobber keeps saying I'm deaf, but-"

"Ye are," Gobber yelled, cutting in without any warning. "'Ow else do ye explain everyone havin' to say everythin' twice for you to hear?"

"I am adjusting," Fishlegs said forcefully, "to working here. It's hard for me to keep track of everything. And sorry, but molten metal is more important than hearing you the first time."

Astrid had never heard Fishlegs speak that forcefully about anything.

Fishlegs turned back to her, wringing his blackened hands fretfully. "Sorry, it's just this wasn't my first choice of a job. Too... casually life-threatening."

"So why are you here?" she asked, now intrigued.

"Nobody else would take 'im," Gobber supplied.

Fishlegs sighed. "He's right. Nobody trusts me to cut trees, I'm not good at fishing or cleaning fish, and we already have too many cooks, even though I think I'd be good at that."

"So you're here," Astrid finished for him. "What about hunting in the forest?"

Fishlegs gave her a confused look. "We don't really do that much anymore. Not much to hunt... and the chief told everyone to stay out of the forest anyway. I can't make a living off of that."

And he did actually need to support himself. If she remembered correctly, his father had died in a raid several years back, and his mother had lost her entire left leg, leaving her less able to support herself than most Vikings with disabilities. He was probably providing for the both of them, and while essentials were free, he clearly didn't want to leave his mother with just the bare essentials.

She couldn't fault him for that, and bringing it up would just embarrass him, so she decided to agree with him. "I suppose you're right about that. And there's at least one less pack of wild boar now, too."

"One less..?" He sat down on one of the larger workbenches, which creaked under his weight.

She took a step back, not wanting to be hit with flying debris if the bench broke. "I found the remains. The dragon wanted their cave, and it made a meal out of them in the process."

Fishlegs blanched. "And... did you find it?" Even terrified, he also sounded intrigued. "What kind is it? The chief told us almost nothing."

"I can't say what kind," she admitted. "People would go crazy. As is, I'm just glad it made its den far from the village."

"So..." If Fishlegs had paled before, his face was as white as freshly washed wool now. "So... it's _that one_. The one he said he shot down?"

"That secret dies with you," she threatened. "But yes."

"And you've seen it."

"Seen it, touched, it, slapped it in the face," she listed idly, secretly enjoying the look of utter disbelief that elicited. "When I'm ready to show the village, you'll get to see it yourself." Along with the rest of Berk. She was going to enjoy that too, assuming it went well.

"Any chance you can... take me to see it?" he asked, as if he had not just said he would see it when everyone else did. "I'd like to study it, maybe add to the Book..."

"No, too dangerous." She didn't think he was brave and stubborn enough to break the chief's direct order and go see for himself, but she would be sure. "And it would kill you if you found it on your own. It only likes me."

"And Hiccup?" It was an innocent question, but one that would reveal-

Nothing. The chief had implied as much in his original, and only, words on the subject. "Of course. But he's gone."

Fishlegs looked over at the forge, seeing Gobber was still there but not listening, and then leaned in, making the bench underneath him creak ominously. "Did the dragon kill him?"

Astrid shook her head. "No, it was an accident that nearly got the dragon killed too. It was nobody's fault." Except maybe that Zippleback, but it was one generic dragon amidst hundreds, and she would likely not recognize it if she ever saw it again.

"An accident..." He seemed unsure of whether he should speak. "You're sure it was an accident?"

"On my honor," she replied, a bit annoyed that he had to ask.

"Okay... It's just that there's a rumor going around..."

This again. "That I killed him. I know, I've heard it. I didn't know it was so widespread." She had assumed it was just that one boy's mother saying that.

"Everyone is talking about it," Fishlegs confessed. "Among other things."

Maybe Asa had been right about combating rumors being important, if there were so many that one about murder wasn't even the single biggest thing being said. "What other things?"

"Some people are saying you are siding with the dragons, and others are saying you're keeping a kill to yourself so you can bring in a body during the next raid, or that you're betraying the tribe..." He shrugged apologetically. "Nobody knows what to think, and we don't even know enough to guess at what's really going on, or what really happened."

"Oy, Fishlegs. Break's over," Gobber announced. "Go sort the weapons by pointiness."

"How do I quantify that?" Fishlegs asked indignantly. "Why not by length?"

"Don' ask me, jus' figure it out!"

Astrid took that as her cue to leave, lest she get sucked into the inane debate developing in front of her. It seemed being in a constant state of moral peril made Fishlegs less likely to be timid, if only because he had nothing more to fear. That was one way to get him to act like a Viking.

Acting like a real Viking. A real Viking would be too honorable to spread rumors. Hopefully Fishlegs was just hearing what he had told her, not passing it on. He liked facts, so she would assume he wouldn't spread misinformation.

Everyone else, on the other hand... she clenched her fist, angry at nobody in particular. Maybe herself. She had neglected to care what the village thought of all of this, too wrapped up in the assumption that they would wait and see what happened.

This could not continue; rumors were dangerous. She was on the edge of legitimacy as it was; the chief's permission was the only thing making what she was doing officially not treasonous. If popular opinion pushed him to rescind that permission, she would be in a very tough spot, one with no good escape that left her honor intact. She needed the majority of the tribe at least on the fence about all of this.

So she needed to kill a few rumors. Somehow, that didn't seem to be something her practice ax could do. At least she had the day free to work on it

But how best to go about it? Well, first she probably needed to know exactly what the most prevalent ones were. Then, she could... make them look wrong? If they were about what had happened at the nest, there was no way for her to quash them. It was her word or nothing, and of course her word would not be considered the truth by any who wanted to think otherwise.

On the other hand, if it was about what was happening now, in the woods... really, she needed the chief to fix that one. He could just publicly explain in a little more detail what she was doing and what she hoped to accomplish.

But... that would also probably involve setting a deadline, a demonstration of some sort to prove the worth of her work. She did not want to put herself under any sort of time limit; there was no telling whether she would hit another unexpected delay .

So was there any other way to handle this aside from going to the chief? The issue was, she didn't know enough about this sort of thing, not listening to or passing on any rumors herself.

There were two people who _did _know how rumor worked, though. The twins had worked the rumor mill of Berk in their favor at least twice that Astrid could recall, both times to get Snotlout in trouble as a prank. Ruffnut could probably help her. Or maybe Tuffnut, but Astrid knew where Ruffnut would be, so she would be able to find her.

Astrid made her way through the village once more, her good mood fading like frost in the sun. This was not exactly how she had wanted to spend her day, though her mother had suggested exactly this. At least looking for odd jobs was working towards a sure goal. This was fixing something that would not have to be fixed if people weren't so fickle and ready to believe whatever they heard.

* * *

Ruffnut was loitering in the Great Hall in the company of several Vikings Astrid could only classify as 'fans', slightly younger teens who were entranced by Ruffnut's victory in the arena. Astrid recognized most of them from the days in which they hung around Hiccup, and before that herself. They were of no consequence, and several were already drunk, most looking half asleep to boot.

Actually, Ruffnut herself looked as bored as Astrid would be, which was a point in her favor. Someone like Snotlout would never bore of having fans, but Ruffnut was probably too used to constant chaos to like hanging around doing nothing.

Astrid didn't bother making it look like she was in the Mead Hall for a reason other than Ruffnut, making a beeline straight to her table and sitting down across from her.

"Ah, Astrid. What's the matter, missing the attention?" Ruffnut asked, lacking most of the sneering Astrid would have expected to accompany a jab like that.

"It doesn't seem like you're enjoying it much. Why do you assume I did?" She couldn't care less whether people followed her and worshipped the ground she stood on. Really, it was better when they didn't.

"Just seems like you would. For me, nothing beats pulling pranks," Ruffnut admitted. "But this lot is hopeless, and I'm not going to my brother. He made his choice."

This was a chance to get some more information on that particular oddity. Astrid put aside her own request for a moment to focus on that. "What's going on with you two?" Maybe this time that question would have an actual answer.

"He wanted to... I don't know." Ruffnut scowled, pulling a mug of mead over from one of her fans. "Be his own person, not half of 'the twins,' or some other nonsense. He's crazy, you know."

"And you're perfectly sane," Astrid asserted. The twins were wild, not crazy. There was a difference.

"Close enough," Ruffnut agreed. "Whatever. I don't know why he decided to abandon me, but I don't care. Maybe now I can get a boyfriend without him chasing them away."

So Ruffnut still didn't know why her brother had broken with her. "You could have gotten him back after fighting the Nightmare."

"No way. He got me into that mess, so he doesn't get to come back as soon as it's over." Ruffnut slammed the mug down on the table. "In fact, I was going to prank him to get him back, but... well, we're back around to these idiots being useless."

There were several grunts of protest, but nothing more. Astrid revised her assessment of the Vikings following Ruffnut around. They were definitely all drunk, and very bored.

"So yeah. Why are you here?" Ruffnut leered rudely, gesturing out to the woods. "I hear you got yourself a boyfriend out there."

Astrid felt her face flush red. "I'm not entirely sure which way you mean that, and I take offense from either," she gritted.

"Eh, calm down, it was just a joke." Ruffnut waved her hand in the air, as if to console her. "The way I see it, if 'perfect warrior Astrid' is keeping a pet dragon, Ragnarok is coming, so nothing matters anyway."

"Not a pet," she corrected angrily. "But that's kind of why I'm here. I'm hearing that stuff like your 'joke' is being repeated all over the village."

"And you want advice on how to salvage your reputation," Ruffnut finished knowingly. "Well, let me tell ya, you're doomed to failure. Don't try to stop rumor. Embrace being the village's next Hiccup."

Astrid stood, angrily shoving her seat out and leaning in. "I am not-"

"Skinnier than you should be, rumors flying, doing something we don't understand and only tolerate because the chief does," Ruffnut cut in seriously. "Take it from someone who knows what being on the bad side of the village looks like, you're well on your way."

"I-"

Ruffnut cut her off again, this time by way of knocked the helmet off of one of the semi-comatose Vikings beside her. "You, lackey. What do you think of Astrid?"

The Viking stared at her, rubbing his eyes drunkenly, not even seeming to notice Astrid right across the table. "Huh?"

"Astrid," Ruffnut gritted, shaking him as much as she could manage, being at least a hundred pounds lighter than he was. "What do you think?"

"I dunno... weird," he managed, slurring as he spoke. "Messin' wit' dragons, chief lets 'er..."

Ruffnut let him go, turning back to Astrid. "From the mouth of a drunken idiot. Replace dragons with..." she stopped for a moment, something occurring to her. "Well, no, but we didn't know about that. Replace dragons with inventions, and who do you have?"

"Hiccup." It was clear, no matter how much she hated to hear it.

"Exactly. So embrace it!" Ruffnut walked around the table, leading Astrid out of the Great Hall. "Your reputation is going up in flames, so use that. Have fun, do whatever. Nobody will think any worse of you in the long run." Her mood soured in an instant. "And take it from me, after a while you get used to it. Personally, being looked up to is a drag compared to that freedom."

"For you," Astrid retorted, pulling away. "I'm not giving up so easily."

"Neither did Hiccup. Look where that landed him." Her voice was solemn. "Seriously, I don't know what changed, but you're different now. Nobody looks at you and remembers Astrid the warrior, because you don't look like her or act like her."

But... she didn't feel any different! "I haven't changed!"

"I mean, the hairstyle says otherwise if nothing else," Ruffnut countered. "It doesn't matter. By the time you're back to normal, if you can even do that, there will be no point. Your reputation will be in the dirt, and bringing it back up will take a lifetime."

"Just tell me how to stop the rumors," Astrid pleaded, trying to salvage something from this brutally disillusioning conversation.

Ruffnut smiled sarcastically, gesturing to the village. "Talk to every single Viking, one by one, and convince them all that nothing is different. Then do that again and again for the rest of your life. Rumors don't die, they get forgotten, and nobody will ever forget any of this."

No... "I don't believe you."

"Then why are you asking me for advice?" Ruffnut began to walk away, not headed in the direction of the Mead Hall. "Good luck doing the impossible."

Astrid did not follow her, feeling like she had been struck in the head for a third time, dizzy and sick to her stomach.

She was not the village's next Hiccup! She couldn't be, no matter how many similarities there happened to be! And she hadn't changed, Ruffnut was just mistaken...

That felt hollow and wrong. She didn't lie to herself, not like this. She had changed, but she was going to fix it. This was not how she was always going to be. Her hair would regrow, and her muscles would be rebuilt. She would get an ax just like her old one.

That was what Ruffnut did not see. This was all temporary. She would recover what she had lost, and this part of her life would fade from the village's collective memory, not what had come before.

Right. She had not, and would not change.

But the rest of Ruffnut's advice about it being impossible to combat rumor... _That _rung true. And the twins had even used that very impossibility in both of the examples she had recalled, creating rumor, not fighting it.

Still, maybe Ruffnut didn't know everything. She wanted a second opinion.

That meant finding Tuffnut. Where could he be?

Probably not the woods; that was off-limits now. Not the arena as nothing was happening there.

He would be working. It was hard to think of the male twin as actually laboring and not goofing off, but unlike his sister, he was not a dedicated warrior with nothing better to do than laze around in the Great Hall. Like Fishlegs, he would be expected to find a job.

So... what kind of job would Tuffnut take up? Fishing? She didn't know anything about either of the twins' actual interests. He could be anywhere from the docks to the sheep fields.

But... he would have to come home for dinner, and most families always ate in the Great Hall.

Okay, she knew where to find him, and when. Until then...

She had lost the motivation to seek out odd jobs today. Really, she wanted to go home and train until dinner, but that was running away from her problems. So, despite an utter lack of motivation, she forced herself to go down to the docks. The fish cleaners were always willing to employ help for the day, if at a very low price. She could clean fish until dinner.

* * *

What Astrid had failed to take into account was that cleaning fish for three hours meant she would not be in the mood to eat fish, which was the Great Hall's main course that very night. She picked at her chunk of salmon, not feeling at all hungry, and watched the entrance to the Great Hall. Hopefully Tuffnut would show, because if he didn't then she really was wasting her time.

And... there he was, slinking in behind Gobber and Ack. He made his way to the back of the hall, picking up his own serving of fish, and sat at a table in the far corner, his face obscured by shadows.

Really, what was with him? She had never seen either of the twins acting like that. Moody, subtle? Neither fit them. She only knew brash and wild.

But... maybe that was precisely why Tuffnut had split them apart. Were they only like that when together?

She resolved to ask him, yet again, as she moved towards his table. The twins were a mystery she might eventually hear the answer to if she was persisent.

He said nothing as she sat next to him, looking out at the rest of the hall. He wasn't eating either, it seemed, his chunk of... was it cod? It all came in chunks for some reason, so it all looked similar. His chunk of miscellaneous fish was as untouched as hers.

He chose to remark upon that. "Wasting food? Where is Astrid and what have you done with her?" It wasn't a jab at her appetite so much as her practicality; food taken was food eaten whether she liked the food in question or not. There would be no waste.

"I'm not going to waste it," she defended, though she had planned to pass it off to someone else. "In fact, I'll take yours if you aren't going to eat it." Two plates would be as easy to pawn off as one.

"Take it," he agreed, shoving it over to her. "So, want to fight rumor?"

"How in the world do you know about that?" She had no idea how he had found out so quickly.

"One of Ruffnut's loyal fans is amiable to keeping me informed if I promise to make sure she notices him someday," Tuffnut explained, sounding far more eloquent than usual. "He's stupid and lovestruck. I just want someone to watch her and make sure she doesn't do something really, really stupid, so he's perfect for the job."

That was... actually kind of nice. "You hired her a secret bodyguard?"

"He hired himself; I'm just paying him." Tuffnut shrugged. "Same reason I told you to get some form of defense."

Back to that. "Seriously, Snotlout isn't going to go that far."

"I'm not so sure about that. What do you think he sees as his future?" Tuffnut didn't sound like he was looking for an answer, and immediately continued talking. "Son of the chief's brother, with a father that can't be chief. He's next in line for being chief when Stoick goes, which could be any month if there's a really bad raid. Seems to me he's anticipating being able to do whatever he wants."

Spitelout couldn't be chief? She hadn't known that. Interesting. But as for the rest... "Snotlout isn't that bad." It kept coming around to that. She just couldn't see him doing something like that, no matter his motivations. He was, if nothing else, a Viking, a very stereotypically macho one. Attacking a woman didn't fit his style at all, to say nothing of the consequences.

"How well do you know him?" Tuffnut asked.

"He's an annoying Jorgenson with anger issues, an oversized ego, and a desire to be all things Viking," she listed. "None of that points to what you suggest." She didn't want to say it, even if they would not be overheard. She did not spread rumors, and that definitely extended to creating them. Especially with an accusation like this one. If word got around that Snotlout had attacked and forced himself on a woman, even if it wasn't true and had never happened, his reputation and honor would be irrevocably cast into a shadow. She wouldn't do that to him. Especially now, when she was beginning to understand just how bad rumors about oneself felt.

Tuffnut understood just as well as she did, which was why neither of them spoke of it so plainly. "Correct. Now add a sense of impending power, and thus protection from consequences. Specifically, power that could come any day, without warning, and is inevitable in the end. Make him mad and jealous, and give him the right target..."

She hated to think of that, but it wasn't _impossible_, put that way. "So you're going around making sure he gets no targets. Why is it your job?"

"Nobody else is doing it, and I have free time," he reasoned. "And no desire to keep doing what I've always done."

"So... is this who you want to be?" She liked this version of Tuffnut better, really, but it was such a drastic change it felt intrinsically wrong. "The moody, secretive guy who protects people without them knowing it?"

"Sounds better than half a troublemaker," he replied, entirely serious. "Hiccup is gone, and nobody cares aside from Stoick and maybe you. They just remember the accidents and the bad things. I'm not too picky on how I'll be remembered, but I don't want it to be as half a whole that did not good for anybody."

It all came back around to that day and what followed, in the end. Every single oddity could be traced back there, even this one. "Hiccup's death-"

"Made me think, or maybe made me stop acting like an idiot for half a second," he agreed, his eyes intense now. "We could have stopped together any time. But we got used to the personas of Ruff and Tuff, pranksters, and it was so easy to just keep doing that. You know, we haven't done anything else, haven't changed, in ten years? This was long overdue, but Ruff didn't want to let it happen."

"You picked a complicated time to make the break," Astrid pointed out. "Wouldn't after the fight have been better?"

"No, when I broke our duo was perfect," Tuffnut argued. "It instantly differentiated us, and continues to do so. She will be known as a winner. I won't. She doesn't have to get a job. I do. She has fans. I don't. Every little difference helps make sure she gets used to the distance."

"She doesn't seem to be happy with it," Astrid remarked, unsettled. "And... you've really been... like _this_? All these years?" The twins were actors, but who knew even that was an act?

"Then that's her fault," he said, unashamed. "And no, I haven't always been like this. I'm just doing what feels right."

What feels right... watching his sister from afar, making sure she doesn't do anything too stupid, but forcing her to figure out who she was without him. Warning her of Snotlout, clearly trying to protect him as well as her by not letting him be in the position to be tempted.

"I like this you," she admitted. "Even if it's not much like what most Vikings would choose to be."

He shrugged, nonplussed. "I'm not doing this to be liked, and I haven't cared about approval in a long time. That hasn't changed."

"Just take the compliment," she shot back. "And if you're remaking yourself, think about adding some tact."

"That, my dear Astrid, is one thing I don't have," he asserted, though they both knew it wasn't true. He had plenty of tact if one looked at how he handled the discussion on Snotlout. He just didn't choose to let it show.

"And it's not a Viking quality," he continued after a long moment. "But... One way or another, it looks like a lot of us aren't good Vikings anymore."

That, to her eyes, depended on how one defined Viking. She saw it as a collection of traits and shared heritage, the traits including honor, physical prowess, and stubbornness. The other things, like rudeness, brash attitudes, and overly inflated egos, were just what most Vikings ended up with along the way.

But... he was still right, even to her way of looking at it. Ruffnut was fine, and Snotlout was already there. Fishlegs had never been quite there, and didn't seem to be improving. Tuffnut was drifting away from many of the key aspects that made one a Viking in attitude as well as heritage.

And she was struggling to bring herself back to normal. Did every generation have these struggles? Everyone older than them was more or less Vikingly in character, and it seemed odd that their specific group would break that mold.

Hiccup. His impact, yet again. For someone who had very little influence on the village when alive, he sure had quite a bit in death.

_**Author's Note:**_** So, we finally see why Tuffnut broke apart the famed duo. This was a change I wanted to make from the start, but it was hard to depict properly, especially given where we are in the timeline. We don't get to see the twins as anything but the one-dimensional characters the first movie paints them as, and all character development in the shows cannot be applied. So I was working with that single, simple depiction, meaning I had to take a lot of artistic license with Tuffnut, and to a lesser degree Ruffnut. Blame Hiccup and his death; Astrid certainly does.**

**On another note, I liked switching things around with how Astrid initially approaches the possibility of Snotlout being as vile as so many stories tend to depict him. She doesn't believe him capable of it, despite his faults.**


	12. Unwelcome Developments

Astrid sat at a table in a shadowy corner of the Great Hall, ignoring the mangled chunks of fish sitting on plates between herself and the Viking she had sought out.

"So you know I'm trying to stop the rumors," she asked, summing up why she had originally come here. She had gotten far more information than expected in talking to Tuffnut, to the point where both plates of unwanted fish had gone quite cold, but not what she needed to know. What he had to say about why he had split from Ruffnut was very, very interesting, but she did have a goal here besides understanding. One he might be able to help her with.

"Yes, though I don't know what Ruffnut advised," he admitted, leaning back against the wall behind them.

"That I take advantage of my plummeting reputation to have fun." She didn't want to do that. Hopefully Tuffnut had something for her other than giving up and making the best of it.

"She's right," he said bluntly, crushing her fleeting hopes. "Rumors are like ants. Kill as many as you want, they'll just keep coming back until you run out of energy. Then they'll eat you whole."

She stared at him. "What kind of ants are you referring to?" Of the many hardships Vikings endured, man-eating ants was not one she knew of.

"Maybe that one wasn't ants. Still. Don't bother trying to stop them yourself, you'll just waste time."

"In my case, what if the chief tells the whole village-"

Tuffnut was shaking his head almost from the moment she started talking. "They'll just change the stories to fit the new information without being any better. You have to make people want to believe the best of you, not tell them to. And that's not possible given what you're doing."

"Thanks anyway," she said, unwilling to be ungracious. "But I'm not going to give up. On either thing." Changing opinion or training that dragon. Really, if she could drop one, she would rather train the dragon than change opinions. Sadly, both were important.

"What about the other, other thing?" he asked cryptically, which in itself told her where the conversation had swung back around to. "I saw you with a new ax, but now you're unarmed again."

"Working on it." It might be a while, given how little she had earned for her work today. "Why do you ask?"

"Because he's coming this way? Oh, and the ax thing." Tuffnut affected a lack of concern, putting his boots on the table and leaning even further back, suddenly looking as out of it as Ruffnut's fans had been earlier that day. "I'm not here unless you need me to be."

She wouldn't need him, but she liked that he made what he was willing to do clear... and that he was willing to interfere at all.

In a moment of annoyance directed at Snotlout, she didn't bother looking up to see where he was. He would make himself known soon enough.

It began with a plate dropped loudly onto the table, yet another chunk of unidentifiable fish. Seriously, who was back there cutting this stuff? Was it Mulch with a mace again?

"Astrid, just who I was hoping to see," a smarmy voice remarked. Snotlout was feeling particularly confident tonight.

"Clearly, given how far out of your way you went to find me," she remarked, still not looking up.

"Fate," he countered, sitting down across from her. "It was as if a light shined down upon you-"

"In the darkest corner of the building," she wryly interjected. His pickup lines were as stupid as he was.

"Whatever." He was in a good mood tonight, it seemed, and took her retort in stride. "So, guess what? I got a job working with the hunters."

"The same hunters that don't really hunt anymore, because there's nothing on the island worth hunting?" She wasn't sure if he was lying about that or not. "You do know they hunt food, not dragons, right?"

"Of course I knew that," he blustered. "And they go into the woods."

"Not since the chief forbid it," she corrected. Really, he needed more up-to-date information.

"No, he didn't mean I- I mean we, the hunters who supply Berk with much needed food, had to stop working." Now Snotlout was speaking very carefully. "But I don't know the woods very well."

"What a surprise," she deadpanned.

"But you do," he persisted, smiling sleazily. "So could you do a fellow Berkian a favor and... show me around? You and me, _alone_..."

It was like he didn't remember the scores of prior conversations that had all wound back around to that endgame, or how they had ended. She was almost glad he didn't learn; it meant he never changed up how he went about trying to get to her, which in turn made shutting him down almost effortless.

"Over your mauled, broken, and decidedly dead body," she said casually, letting just a hint of cold anger into her voice.

"Wow, so Vikingly and violent," he remarked. "But really, think about it." His voice turned calculating, a rarity for him. "I'm only going up in the world."

She had to work at not casting Tuffnut a surprised look. He had hit the nail on the head with his assessment of how Snotlout saw the immediate future.

Still, her answer was obvious. "Again. Specifically, mauled and broken as well as dead." She had chosen those words on a whim, but they fit her disgust towards him.

"Someday soon, babe, you won't be able to resist this manliness any more," Snotlout asserted, his voice low. "I'm just helping that along. See you soon." With that he left, leaving behind his fish.

"One could interpret that-" Tuffnut began.

"Believe me, I heard it," she retorted, cutting him off. "I definitely heard it." The question was, in which way had Snotlout meant that? She was not being naive to think it was possible he had said it innocently enough; he often said stupid things.

"And if he follows you into the forest?" Tuffnut asked skeptically. "Am I also right in thinking 'broken and mauled' was a specific choice of threats?"

"Yes, as in that's what I'll do to him myself." She could do it, even like this. She would just have to disarm him first. But that wouldn't be necessary.

"Okay, okay," Tuffnut muttered. "Good luck with the violent dismemberment. Somehow, I don't think you need advice on that, even if I am qualified to give it."

She had to hide a smile at that. "Some things never change."

"And some things do," he replied quietly. "Some things are better off changing."

He was speaking of himself, of course. She didn't reply, now considering the two- no, three, thanks to Snotlout- plates of fish.

Well... she _had _lacked rewards last time...

She could use these. The dragon probably wouldn't object to cooked fish. She scooped all three chunks onto one plate and left the Great Hall with them, planning to return the plate another day.

This did, as a side effect, also specify when she was going to see the dragon; as soon as possible to avoid the fish going bad. Tomorrow morning.

Was it foolhardy to go into the woods the morning after what could very well have been meant as a threat involving her alone in the woods? Maybe, but she was almost hoping Snotlout tried something. It would at least prove Tuffnut's worries if he did, and she would be able to defend herself.

* * *

The day dawned cloudy and overcast, but in a way that Astrid knew from past experience meant the clouds would probably be blown away by midday. She would not be bothered by the weather.

As she did not need to spend all day with the dragon, she did not leave immediately, instead doing some training behind her hut, skipping her run. The forest was too chaotic to be safe for running, but the walk was a long one, and if she ended up with free time after meeting with the dragon, she harbored some idea of today being the day she tried climbing in the cove, as a way of testing her mostly-healed arm. That might work out perfectly if the dragon decided to go there and mourn again.

So, she enjoyed an hour or so of target practice, hurling her practice ax at the targets with ease. Her aim, at the very least, had not suffered like the rest of her, and she was beginning to feel a little more like normal again. A few more weeks, at this rate, to return to a tolerable condition, and a few months to fully recover.

She couldn't wait to be back to normal. She missed the feeling of knowing exactly how capable she was, and knowing there was no more that could be done to improve, only maintain. It meant she was doing all that was needed to succeed.

Once done with her target practice, sweating and satisfied, Astrid returned to her room, put her ax away, and grabbed the slightly smelly satchel that contained the designated chunks of fish, along with her water skin. That was all she needed, unless...

She returned to her training ax and picked it up again, absently feeling for cracks in the hilt as she weighed her options. Maybe she had been a little overconfident last night. If something happened out there, she would be far more likely to be in control of the situation if she was armed.

Unless, of course, that something was the dragon, in which case being armed meant she would get hurt. Again. And unlike Snotlout, she knew she would be seeing the dragon today.

Taking her training ax would be more dangerous than useful. But she did not want to go totally without protection. Tuffnut's words rung far truer now that she understood where he was coming from.

She picked up the knife she had recovered from the cove. Hiccup's knife. It was a little rusty, but rust was capable of slowly poisoning if it got into one's blood, so that actually made it a more effective weapon, as the rusting was minimal and as such not yet affecting the blade's integrity or sharpness.

The rust also made the knife a dishonorable weapon. But nobody could call it dishonorable if it was all she had on her, so she stuck it into the waist of her skirt, making sure it could be dislodged without taking said skirt off. She wanted no repeats of the last time she had needed throw a weapon away.

Then she was off- but not into the forest. There was one more thing she wanted to check before setting out. One of Snotlout's claims needed to be investigated.

Berk's hunters were, to put it bluntly, a lazy lot. Most of the ones with an actual work ethic had moved to other professions as the animals worth hunting died out, so those that remained were by deduction the ones who did not mind such a niche, low-yield profession. They had a shack on the outskirts of the village for skinning and preparing carcasses.

It was on the outskirts because it was broken into every raid without fail. Something about the lingering scent of meat made it the perfect target. If raids weren't so hectic, they might have been able to use that fact to their advantage, but when fire started falling from the sky nobody cared all that much about a shed.

Astrid headed to the shed, wondering what she would find inside. Snotlout had said the hunters did not consider themselves affected by the chief's decree to stay out of the woods. If she found nothing, then she would not know either way given how scarce good game was, but if she found anything fresh she would know for sure.

So, she pulled open the door to the shed with quite a bit of curiosity. What was inside?

A wave of stench hit her, one that almost made her choke. Old blood, stale blood, rot. Whoever was in charge of cleaning this thing clearly didn't think it necessary when it was trashed every raid.

But... in the corner, hanging from the roof, were two small bodies and a big one. They were skinned, but Astrid knew the look of skinned rabbits and boar.

She shut the door, her question answered, if not the way she had hoped. Did the chief know the hunters were still hunting? Would he even care if she told him? They _did _supply Berk with some rare variety to the diet, which was nice, and they would, in the chief's eyes, obviously know what not to hunt.

She would still have to bring it up when she got back tonight. This was a minor rebellion of sorts, though it was also probably a misunderstanding. They were disobeying a direct order.

Tonight. She was once again glad the dragon was living on the far side of the island, and was so impressively stealthy to boot. Nobody was going to find it unless they knew where to look. It had been luck she and her father found it in the first place, and for some reason the dragon had even disposed of the carcasses that gave its den away.

And carpeted the clearing with dead branches.

Her eyes widened as she made the connection. It was making sure it could not be found or snuck up on. It knew there were still Vikings besides her in the woods.

Every time she thought she might have gotten the measure of its cleverness, it proved her wrong in some way.

Well, that was still good news, regardless of how long it had taken her to make the connection. Anything the dragon did that avoided conflict was good news right now. She did not want to have to defend it if dead bodies began to pile up in the woods, no matter who was in the right. Best all involved avoided that.

Now she knew one part of what Snotlout had said was true. The hunters still roamed Berk. But was he one of them? She did not know any who still held the profession, and did not want to spend time finding one now just to ask. She still had something else to do today.

Also some other time. It felt like every time she turned her back on something, be it the village or her former peers, the next time she paid attention something had changed. She was not used to things changing so quickly. Berk was, at its core, a place that withstood outside pressure. It did not change; that was the whole point. It endured.

It would not endure if that monstrosity from the nest decided to pay a personal visit...

She walked a little quicker, shivering despite the somewhat warm wind. That was a mental image she was glad her nightmares did not hold. Really, she had not had any nightmares of the nest. Of Hiccup's unconscious, bleeding face as he fell into the sulfurous yellow mists? Maybe. But nothing of the nest, and she had expected to dream of the first real death she had ever seen up close. The first person her age that she knew falling in combat, however strangely. It was not worth remarking upon. She knew from listening to old warriors talk that nightmares about things seen in combat were unavoidable, and nothing to be ashamed of, so she ignored them and did her best to forget.

But no, she did not want to think of that scenario, whether voluntarily or in a dream. The monstrosity was so large; it could crush huts like ants. The mead hall would barely slow it, even built into the mountain's base as it was. A dragon that large could just batter at the mountain itself-

She dropped down a small overhang, forcing herself to pay attention to her path. She didn't want to think about that.

Besides, that monstrosity had never left the nest that she knew of. There would be stories if it had; something that big had to leave a mark on the world and on whatever peoples it devastated. She had heard all the stories of glorious battles and last stands, and none of them were about any horror remotely similar to what she had seen.

No, it lurked at the nest, out of reach, and sent out its slaves to terrorize Vikings, not even risking itself in combat. Dishonorable, if such a concept could even be applied to something like that.

She adjusted her path, trying to take into account where she wanted to go other than 'into the woods', which was the only direction she had chosen in her preoccupation. From this part of Berk, she could head past the cove on the other side, nearer to the center of the island.

She had not walked this path before, but it should not be too hard, and she had time. The odds were, just forging ahead would be faster than backtracking and going back to the paths she knew.

Or... she reconsidered that, sliding down a steep hillside, controlling her descent with her feet. It might be best to head for the cove, which she could be reasonably sure of finding, and then going from there. It would be faster to find the cove then to find that fairly discrete cave and clearing.

Yes, that was the best plan. She made her way to the cove, several times being forced to backtrack a little to avoid sudden cliffs or small streams that had carved their own little gorges. Berk was wild, and that did not lend itself to taking new paths. Still, there was a sort of pleasure to be had from finding a way through or past whatever the island could throw at her, and knowing that she was probably taking a path no Viking had ever followed in exactly the same way.

And then, almost without warning, she was at the cove, staring down into its peaceful interior. The pond was still, nary a ripple to be seen, and the rocks shaded.

She wavered there, feeling the weight of the fish in her satchel, and judging whether she should try and climb the rocks now or later. If she did it now, she would be in the shade, and she would have plenty of time to go see the dragon after. If she waited, she might have to put it off entirely for another day.

That thought made up her mind for her. She hated putting things off.

Finding the crack in the rocks that let her into the cove was trivial now; she knew the way. She set the satchel and water skin down on the ground by the pond and sized up her newest self-appointed challenge.

Most of the cove was bordered by solid rock faces, some lined with helpful ledges only someone lithe and agile could use, and some as sheer as they all appeared at first glance. She wasn't crazy enough to tackle one of the purely sheer faces in her weakened state, so she moved to the bottom of one with ledges, rubbing her hands together.

Actually... she didn't think she would fall, but it would be stupid to get hurt here. She moved to another, similar face, one that jutted out over the pond. There, that was safe enough. A soaking would be the punishment for failure, not a bone-breaking impact.

Now, to see if she could climb out of here. She put her hands on useful ledges, her fingers gripping as well as could be expected of flesh on rock, and began to shuffle to the side, over the water. That was, of course, first priority.

Once she was safely above the still pond, she began moving up. It was a slow, surprisingly testing task. She had not climbed entirely vertically like this in a long time. It was good that she was keeping her skills sharp. Her bad arm twinged occasionally, and she was careful not to put too much weight on it, but it didn't hinder her.

When she was twice her own height up the rock wall, she hit a snag- literally. A small, scrubby bush had caught her tunic. She pushed up and out, trying to dislodge it. The bush held on doggedly, clinging to her and pulling her back, scraping her stomach under the tunic.

Enough messing around. She got a very, very good grip on a particularly wide ledge, pushed off with her feet, and smashed the bush right at its base, hitting as hard as she could manage in an effort to break it and by extension its hold on her.

The impact jolted her more than she had expected. Her fingers slipped, their hold not as good as she had thought, and she fell backward. The water below was cold and wet, somehow shocking even though she had known exactly what to expect. She floundered to the surface with a gasp, noting that the pond was deeper than she had thought, too deep to stand where she had fallen.

That was fine; she could practice her swimming on the way to the edge. So much for her first try, and now she was soaked, meaning she would be heavier and would have a harder time getting a solid grip.

That settled it. She didn't have time to wait for herself to dry, so this challenge was going to have to remain here, for another day, as much as she hated leaving it. Practicality trumped pride, as it should.

She made her way to the edge of the pond and trudged out, feeling lighter as her clothing drained. Maybe she should take some of her outer wear off to let it dry?

No, something told her that was a waste of time. She could dry as she walked. So she looked to where-

Her satchel and water skin were gone. She had left them by the edge of the pond, but now they were nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, this place did not feel so safe from being snuck up on. She was not alone.

She drew the slightly rusty knife from her waistband, ignoring the water running down her face as it dripped out of her shortened hair. She was not alone, and that meant annoyances ceased to matter unless they were relevant.

But where was the danger going to come from, if it came for her? She turned in a slow circle, checking every shadow at the base of the rock walls. Nothing there, and no leather that meant a satchel or water skin.

Then her eyes were drawn upward, to the edges of the cove itself. The dragon had looked in from up there-

And there he was. Not the dragon, Snotlout, sitting with his legs dangling off the side of the rocky cove wall, eating one of the old, cold fish hunks from the night before, watching her. He waved.

For a brief moment she couldn't decide on what she wanted to yell first. A condemnation for breaking a standing order? Promises of pain for watching her in secret? An order to get out of this place because it was not his?

That last one was a little silly, but she did not dismiss it. This place was special, if not to her than to the dragon. Snotlout shouldn't be here.

Then, while she was deciding, he pulled back and disappeared from sight, taking her things with him.

She began to jog towards the exit to the cove, knowing it would be impossible to catch up with him, but moving quickly anyway. What in the world was going through that small mind of his, to steal her stuff? And how had he been quiet enough to go down into the cove, take her things, and leave, all while she was climbing nearby?

Well, not that silent. She had been concentrating on something else.

Stupid. She needed to have someone watching her back, and as a result of not doing so, she apparently had Snotlout creepily staring.

She struggled through the narrow exit to the cove, seething mad. Her tracking skills weren't great, but she was going to try, and try hard, because he was not getting away-

Or... he could be standing right there, holding her things in one hand and smiling creepily. Well, at least she didn't have to track him down before beating him up.

She started towards him, her empty hand balled into a fist. Words came easily now. "What do you think you are _doing_, you muttonhead of a Jorgenson?!" She snatched the satchel and water skin, noting that the satchel was too light to have anything in it. He had actually eaten all three pieces of fish!

"Watching a vision from Valhalla?" he replied smugly. "Quite the show, especially from down there when I was getting our lunch."

She felt her face grow red, though there had been nothing for him to see. "Start running."

"From what? You? Face it babe, you've got nothing." He gestured dismissively to her knife. "That couldn't put down a Terror, let alone me."

Not if she used it right. She had not trained with knives, but he didn't know that. "I'm not kidding, yak-brain. Run."

"And you have no leg to stand on," he continued, still not looking the least bit intimidated. "I'm a future chief and you're..." He gestured to the forest. "Well, it looks like you're scamming the chief."

She opened her mouth to object-

He took a large, almost threatening step forward. "So how about we work out a deal? I don't tell Stoick that you're spending your time in here climbing rocks instead of dealing with the dragon, and you..." He leered at her.

She gripped her knife tighter, furious. "Not on your life. Tell him. It's a lie, so I have nothing to fear."

Snotlout glanced at her knife again. His eyes narrowed. "Stop pointing that at me."

"No." She hated that he was even this confident trying to blackmail her. The knife would keep him aware that she _was _dangerous, no matter what he might want to think.

He drew his sword, waving it threateningly. "We both know I'll win if we fight. And then I can just take what I want."

And there it was. She couldn't hope any longer. "So you really are that dishonorable."

"Who said anything about honor?" he spat. "I'll be Chief soon, and you've been turning me down for way too long. It's only fair if I-"

As he spoke he waved his sword in the air for emphasis, and now it waved toward her. She raised the knife to parry, trying to think of a way out of this, because he was right. She stood little to no chance in a straight on fight.

The sword struck her knife a glancing blow as Snotlout derisively batted at it, and everything exploded into motion. A black blur plummeted from directly above them, encompassing Snotlout, and then flashed back up into the trees. A muffled scream of pure terror echoed through the woods.

Astrid didn't even have time to breath in before Snotlout was back, slamming to the ground with an audible crack, his helmet rolling off of his head.

He tried to get to his feet, holding his left arm close to his chest, his eyes wide with terror. "Astr-"

Then the black blur attacked from the side, slamming him against the rocks that marked the entrance to the cove.

It was the dragon. Of course it was, what else could it be? But this was not a dragon she felt at all confident controlling. Its eyes were narrow and dangerous, smoke streaming from its nostrils. It pinned Snotlout to the rock, staring at him.

Then it inhaled. She watched in confusion as its nostril twitched and it leaned in, still inhaling heavily.

"What's it doing?" Snotlout whispered, pained and panicked. His sword was nowhere to be seen, and he had absolutely no chance of defending himself.

She didn't respond, too busy watching a very ominous change occur. The dragon's pupils had been narrow before. Now they shrunk to slits, almost but not quite like what she had seen on the dragons in the nest. That did not bode well for Snotlout, who was pushing weakly against it, making absolutely no progress in wriggling free. "Help..."

She shook her head, knowing he meant help fighting it off. There was absolutely no way either of them was fighting it. She would have to-

The dragon snorted, its eyes still slits, and very deliberately took a step back. It sat on its coiled tail, baring its teeth and looming tall over Snotlout's cowering body. The actions seemed contradictory; threatening but allowing escape.

Snotlout shot her a wild look, standing slightly hunched over, hugging his left arm to his body. He crouched, and bolted to the left.

The dragon flashed into action, slamming him back into the rock. Then it returned to how it had been sitting.

Snotlout groaned, sitting up again and seeing that nothing had changed. "Astrid, call it off," he mumbled.

"I'm not telling it to do this," she shot at him, beginning to wonder what the dragon wanted. "And you're the idiot that came in here before I had it trained."

His eyes narrowed, and he glared at her despite being in obvious pain. "There's... no way... it's doing this on its own."

"Believe it, idiot," she retorted.

He responded by running to the right, only to be tripped by a black tail suddenly lashing out from under the dragon's rear, sending him plowing face-first into the dirt. He rolled over, coughing weakly.

The dragon pounced, pinning him with a single paw. It pushed down, eliciting a muffled groan.

Astrid honestly wasn't sure whether it was playing with its prey or trying to send a message of some kind. She couldn't quite believe it was acting in her defense; it had no reason to really care about her like it had Hiccup.

But then it looked back at her, its eyes momentarily widening to convey a shared frustration, not rage, before turning back to Snotlout.

Okay, that was clear enough. It _was _acting on her behalf, though that did not explain the bit about smelling him.

So she could, hypothetically, tell it to stop at any time, and it might actually listen. The question was... did she want to?

Snotlout groaned as the pressure was eased, the dragon leaning back. He stood, swaying drunkenly, as the dragon sat back again.

Somehow, the fight wasn't totally gone from him yet. He would keep trying to escape, and he would keep failing. A less principled Viking would sit back and enjoy the show, and Astrid had to admit that was a tempting option. But whether or not she thought Snotlout deserved to be toyed with, she knew she couldn't let this go on. That was not honorable.

Astrid dropped the satchel and knife, letting them join the at some point similarly discarded water skin on the ground, and quickly got between the dragon and Snotlout. "Hey, enough."

The dragon met her eyes, and then glanced at Snotlout, who was still swaying behind her. It warbled uncertainly.

"No, I don't want him dead," she responded, speaking for Snotlout's benefit. "Now."

The dragon rolled its eyes and sighed, stalking around her to glare at Snotlout. She let it, knowing it for some reason valued eye contact-

Then the dragon sucker-punched him with one of its front paws. She recognized the jab, the same one that had gotten her. Snotlout tumbled backward, hitting his head on a tree, and limply rolled to the side.

She couldn't believe that had just happened. "I said enough!"

The dragon shrugged its wings and grumbled discontentedly, pushing disdainfully at the now unconscious Viking.

Mauled, broken, and dead. That was what she had promised, and at least two of the three were now true. She knelt by his body, feeling for a pulse. If he was dead, she was in big trouble.

No, there was a beat there, steady and slowing down to something resembling normal. She smelled an acrid scent, and decided not to look too closely at his leggings.

"You literally scared the..." she trailed off, realizing both that the dragon wouldn't understand the saying and that she did not want to be praising it. "Never mind. Bad dragon."

The dragon looked at her with wide eyes. It trotted off into the woods, grabbed something, and returned, dropping Snotout's sword. It pawed at the sword, growling.

"I know _that_," she groaned.

Really, she wasn't mad about what it had done, she was mad that it had happened now. Now, when the village was already leaning towards disapproval. Now, less than a day after she had promised almost exactly what had just happened, intending it as a threat.

Snotlout would awaken, broken but alive. He would return to the village. And then the dragon was going to be in a very bad position. Or, more accurately, she and the dragon would be, because Snotlout clearly hadn't believed she wasn't behind the attack.

No one would care what he had threatened, and nobody would care what she said once he told his story.

But... she couldn't stop him. There had to be some way to fix this, some way to make it a little less terrible. She could tell her side of the story, but what else?

She glanced at the comatose, broken form of Snotlout, and then at the dragon pawing unhappily at the sword. She considered how it understood simple commands once demonstrated, and weighed the risks.

"You are in a lot of trouble," she gritted, getting in its face. "You had better pay close attention."

It rumbled uncertainly at her.

"Time to learn a few more commands," she explained angrily. There might be a way to spin this in her favor, and the dragon's. Because she was not letting Snotlout ruin her honor, even if she could not prove what he was about to do to her and ruin his in turn.

* * *

There were a few villagers near the edge of the village when she walked out into the nearby field, sweaty, still a little waterlogged, and rightfully furious.

"Get the chief," she yelled, pulling up every hint of frustration she could muster. "And take heed."

"Bring," she commanded, gesturing to beside her.

To the utter shock of every villager who was watching, a sleek, black dragon slunk out of the forest and deposited an unconscious form at her feet, before retreating into the woods.

"This is what happens when someone disobeys a direct order of the chief!" she continued, yelling once more.

Now, to see if her side of the story was enough. Because there was a very good chance it wouldn't be. Things had gone downhill very, very quickly.

_**Author's Note:**_** Well, that was abrupt. This chapter did not come easily, because all I had was a one-sentence summary, and knowledge of where it needed to end up. **

**As a side note, sorry, Snotlout's pretty one-dimensional in this story, and not in a good way. His character seems to be the preferred scapegoat for 'bad guy from Berk' in fanfiction, and I do feel a little bad for using that, but it fit into this story too perfectly for me to not use it. At least some of my other stories in the works give him a selection of much better roles to play. (Also, unlike most authors, I can claim to have made **_**Astrid **_**the villain in one of my other stories, so I'd like to think that across all of my works I'm more fair than most. This does also make me wonder about a story in which Fishlegs could believably be the villain, to balance the fact that he's never a bad guy.)**


	13. Damage Control

Astrid had problems, but at least being ignored wasn't one of them. Teaching the dragon 'carry' had been easy, though teaching it the difference between 'carry' and 'drag' was more difficult, requiring several demonstrations. 'Bring', a very simple variation of 'fetch', was similarly easy. She wasn't in the mood to marvel at how intelligent the dragon was right now, but she noticed it in a vague way.

The more pressing matter was what the dragon was going to carry. Snotlout's unconscious body.

She had thought hard and fast about what needed to be done, acutely aware that there was no telling how long she had to prepare. Snotlout was the time limit. She wanted all of this done before he had a chance to speak, to tell his side, because, the first side told was more likely to be believed. She hated that fact, but it remained true regardless of whether she liked it. Once people thought they knew what had happened, it was hard to change their minds. Vikings were probably even worse about it than most people, given their tendency to be stubborn and thus more likely to cling to the first version of things they heard and chose to believe.

So if Snotlout got out his side first, she would lose. Her reputation, the dragon, her honor, and maybe even her life depending on how aggressively Snotlout and his family pressed her for 'attacking the future heir'. Not acceptable. Even now, she felt she owed the dragon, and it had only done exactly what she wanted to train it to do. Attacking an aggressor. It just so happened they were not in a good position, politically speaking, for that aggressor to turn out to be Snotlout.

So she had to defend the both of them. That did not mean lying, she still had her honor, but it did mean presenting the truth in the best possible light; presenting it in a way that was more likely to discredit Snotlout and reinforce her side as being in the right.

There were several ways to do that. The first was to bring Snotlout back with her. Leaving him out in the woods, injured and unconscious, would look bad. Having the dragon carry him was just her way of making sure they made it back before he woke. And of showing the village that the dragon did obey her to some degree.

If they believed it was feral, it would die. She was taking on a little more personal risk by demonstrating that it did listen to her, because that would make it harder to convince the village that she had not been able to get it to stop immediately, but it was necessary.

Her head hurt from all of this political thinking. She was not a thinker, she was a doer! But it needed to be done.

Once the dragon knew the necessary commands, there was nothing more to do but put them into action.

"Carry," she instructed, pointing at Snotlout.

The dragon looked at her as if she was crazy.

"Carry," she repeated firmly. To be fair, the dragon carried with its mouth, and she wouldn't want to pick Snotlout up with her mouth either, but it had to be done.

The dragon huffed and obeyed, leaning over to firmly clamp down on Snotlout's midsection with a mouth currently empty of teeth, lifting him up like that.

Good enough. She was going to have to make sure it didn't smash him into too many trees on the way back.

As she led the dragon through the woods towards Berk, she couldn't help one positive thought amidst all the frustration and worry about what was going to happen.

Snotlout was going to find out at some point that a dragon had carried him halfway across Berk in its mouth. The same dragon that had mauled him.

Hopefully, he would never want to go into the woods again.

* * *

They reached the edge of the woods before Snotlout woke. That part of the plan had worked. She only needed him unconscious for a little longer.

So it was best not to hesitate. This needed to be done.

She stepped out of the woods and into the field separating the village and forest from this direction, noticing that there were no sheep around at the moment. Good, no chance she would accidentally start a terrified stampede.

Now, she needed all eyes on her. She would be perfectly audible from here if she shouted. "Get the chief!"

That got her some attention, various Vikings who had been going about their day turned to stare.

Next on the list, and one of the more important parts. This couldn't be entirely about what had happened. She had to make sure it was also about why it had happened. "And take heed," she yelled.

"Bring," she commanded in a normal tone of voice, also adding an entirely meaningless hand gesture for the benefit of the Berkians.

The dragon obligingly slunk out of the forest, Snotlout dangling limply from its maw, and set Snotlout in front of her, before retreating. She could feel its eyes on her back from the shadows, and knew it wasn't gone, just hiding from sight.

"This is what happens when someone disobeys a direct order of the chief!" she continued, yelling once more. She needed to make this about Snotlout being in the woods in the first place, and the rest of the hunters if she could drag their disobedience into this.

The dragon growled lightly from behind her as Vikings began to cross the field, moving towards her.

She could not let it do anything else here. Its presence would only make things more tense. "Good dragon. Go home."

It didn't move. The Vikings were getting close.

She turned, quickly finding those glowing green eyes in the shadows, once more lurking in the treetops. "This is not dangerous for me, just you. Go. I will find you later if I need you." It would not understand her words, but she was pretty sure it would pick up her lack of fear.

Sure enough, it rumbled tensely and departed, flashing from tree to tree, fading into the forest like a silent wraith.

She really wished she could move that quietly. It was, as had been demonstrated with the initial assault on Snotlout, devastatingly effective. Snotlout was not a coward, but that first attack had both physically and mentally disarmed him. A lot of it was likely pure fear, but some of that shock was surprise, and she was sure anyone could take advantage of that if they could be sneaky enough to cause it.

Irrelevant. She turned back to face the village, and saw that the chief was just stepping out onto the field. Good. Snotlout was still unconscious.

"And someone get Gothi," she yelled, quite unnecessarily now that several Vikings were within normal speaking distance. "This muttonhead needs medical attention."

A large woman with beady eyes and a large mace crouched by Snotlout, quickly looking him over. "I'll take 'im to 'er," she grunted, slinging him over her shoulder without waiting for permission.

Astrid smiled slightly at that, nodding in thanks. "Thank you."

Thank you, she amended in her head as she followed the woman back across the field and meeting more Vikings halfway, for taking him away from the majority of the village. Gothi's hut was isolated from the rest of Berk by virtue of being situated on a ledge halfway up the same mountain their Mead Hall was built into the base of. Once Snotlout was up there, away from the village, Gothi would keep him there for hours, unconscious or not. Not only would his injuries be tended, the only one to hear his story would be Gothi, at least for the time being.

Vikings clustered around her as she walked to meet the chief in the village proper, right on the edge of the field. She had no idea if they thought they were escorting her, guarding her, or just staying close to the source of the unfolding drama to get front-row seats, and she didn't care.

Her eyes met Stoick's. He didn't know what to think, just like the rest of Berk. That was the best she could hope for.

"Astrid, what is the meaning of all of... this?" He gestured to her, and then to the limp form of Snotlout, being carried away even as they spoke.

"Simple," she asserted confidently. "_Someone_," and with that she nodded to Snotlout, "decided the rule you set about not going into the woods did not apply to him. I believe, actually, that he was not alone in doing so, but he was the one unfortunate enough to stumble upon me in there today."

"And..?" Now the chief looked mad, but not entirely at her.

"He drew his sword, Chief," she relayed matter-of-factly. "The dragon attacked him, and it took me time to call it off, because I have not had nearly enough time to get it entirely under control." She needed to paint this as Snotlout's mistake and failure, not hers.

Stoick didn't seem entirely satisfied with that. "Why did he draw his sword?"

That was a good question, and one she did not have any real, believable answer to, but she could not lie... only cut the truth in ways that changed how it was interpreted. "We were arguing, and he got aggressive. All I had was a knife, because I know better than to wield an actual weapon in the woods right now." She said that loudly, hoping the message got through to some of the people listening in. "When he actually swung the sword at me, the dragon did what I've been meaning to teach it to do."

Stoick's eyes brightened. "It actually-"

"Yes, it did," she quickly confirmed. "But it is not trained, not entirely, which is why I could not call it off as soon as it attacked."

"I see..." Stoick rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "You know, lass, that I have to hear Snotlout's side of the story too."

She nodded, concealing her disappointment. She had hoped it would be clear-cut enough that he would consider that unnecessary. "Sir, somehow I don't think he's going to be very happy with what happened, even if it was clearly his fault."

"It will go to trial, of course," Stoick continued, crushing her plans with a simple statement of fact. "Regardless of cause, a Viking has been attacked and injured by... well, one of us, more or less. It is a formality, but a necessary one."

A formality... she hadn't been sure Stoick would uphold that. "Sir, a trial, no matter how clear-cut, will take time."

"Tomorrow," he grunted in response. "At noon, in the Mead Hall. Any who wish can attend." He smiled at her, clearly pleased with such an easy solution. "Open and shut, lass. All ye have to do is convince the Elders that Snotlout disobeyed a direct order, which he clearly did, and let him say his side of things. Don't worry too much about it." With that he walked off, obviously putting the matter out of his mind until then. "Ack, get everyone who's loitering back to work! We've got no time to waste. There's work to be done!"

With that, the crowds reluctantly dispersed, murmuring among themselves. Well, most of the crowd.

"So, what's the damage?" Ruffnut asked casually, sidling up beside her. "And how much of it did you do yourself after he was knocked out?"

"I don't know, and none," she answered shortly. "He was broken enough without me adding to it."

Ruffnut nodded approvingly. "Some of the other dedicated warriors want to go _hunting,_" she said confidentially, leaning in. "I don't, but they're in the mood. We're overdue for a raid, but nothing's come."

"So the dragons skipped a month. It happens." She hadn't even thought about that, because it was true. There was no rhyme or reason to when Berk was attacked. As best she could figure, now knowing they had to raid regularly because of where the food went, they just hadn't picked Berk this time around. They would be back sooner or later.

As for the other thing... "And it's still against Stoick's standing orders to go into the woods. Snotlout being an idiot and breaking that doesn't mean it's okay for anyone else to do the same." The more she brought that up, the more likely Snotlout was going to be in serious trouble for doing so, but she was fine with that. She had no proof of what he intended to do before the dragon interfered on her behalf, but she had very few remaining doubts that he was willing to go that far. His reputation deserved a little lowering, whether or not he had actually done it. He would have. That was all she cared about.

"I didn't say they would," Ruffnut replied. "Unless, say, tomorrow someone gave them permission."

So basically, if things went so terribly that Stoick ordered the dragon hunted down and killed, Ruffnut and the best warriors of Berk would be first in line to carry out that order. "Thanks for the information."

"Anything that humiliates Snotlout is good in my book," Ruffnut explained. "Maybe not if it killed him, but it didn't, so I say keep it around."

Fair enough. Astrid turned to scan the crowd, looking for her parents. They would want a far more thorough explanation now, instead of waiting for the trial.

The trial. Gods, she had hoped to stop it from getting that far. Snotlout would get a chance to speak, and he would spin it just like she had, only in the opposite direction. He might have enough influence to turn things on her, though she had made a good start of discrediting him.

And she wasn't quite out of ammunition in that particular attack on his reputation, either. This was not really between them at the heart of things, but if he attacked her personally tomorrow, she would do all she could to tear him down just as personally.

* * *

Back at her hut, empty as was normal for the middle of the day, she planned feverishly. Thinking was not her strong suit-

No, she needed to stop thinking that. She clearly could think, all warriors needed to plan, she just preferred to carry out a premade plan, not work on the fly. Whether or not she liked it, she could and would do it, and do it well.

Her planning was interrupted quite abruptly when her parents returned home that evening. "Astrid, come out here."

She had expected nothing less. This would be a good practice run for how she intended to present herself. She strode out of her room confidently, forcing herself to keep in mind the fact that she was not in the wrong in any way.

Both of her parents were sitting at the table, waiting. That was good. When her mother was mad she paced, and her father tended to weapons. They weren't mad, just worried.

"Report," her father requested. "What happened today?"

She liked that he asked for the facts, nothing more. That was what report meant. "I was in the woods, thinking myself alone, climbing a rock face above a pond. Snotlout, though I was not aware of it at the time, was watching. The dragon was also presumably watching, again something neither of us was aware of."

The dragon had to have been watching. It made sense. She should have expected it might be around the cove, possibly mourning as it had done before in her presence. Really, she should just be glad it had not objected to her being down there.

"After I was done climbing," she continued, "I realized I was being watched and discovered Snotlout." It stung a bit to admit she had been careless, but she would only give the facts, and that was a fact. No excuses. "We argued, and he drew his sword. The moment he made a clearly aggressive move with it, the dragon attacked."

"And you did not stop it?" Her mother asked.

"Mom, I didn't even know it was there until that moment. I stopped it as soon as I figured out it was attacking on my behalf." The facts, only the facts... and what Snotlout might have been about to try was not a fact, just a strong suspicion supported by words too vague to be proof. "I did get it to stop though. Then I taught it to carry things, had it bring Snotlout out of the woods, and called for the Chief." That was it, really.

Her mother stared at her. "You had it carry Snotlout all the way back to the village after it mauled him?"

"His fault. It was only protecting me." She shivered a little at that blunt fact. It was so very, very strange to have a dragon she was pretty sure had no real reason to care about her attacking someone to protect her. Especially without her asking for said protection. She didn't like that when she didn't know _why_.

"I'm more impressed she got it to carry Snotlout at all," her father remarked.

"This is not a matter to be impressed by," her mother retorted. "It attacked Snotlout, and she could be next."

"Clearly not, given why it attacked," her father replied before she could say... pretty much exactly that. "I am more concerned with what this will all cause tomorrow."

The trial. "It should be simple," she asserted. "Snotlout was clearly breaking a direct order from the Chief designed to prevent exactly what happened. Nobody can blame me or the dragon for that."

"I'm more worried about you than the dragon," her mother muttered. "Your reputation is already-"

Astrid decided to make this blunt and quick, to prevent a long argument, and cut in. "Apparently circling the drain, according to some people who are experts in the matter. I asked what I can do to fix it, but both say nothing. I don't believe it will be that way forever, but right now my reputation is going to plummet no matter how this trial goes."

"As long as you do the right thing." Her father smiled at her. "And you must be making progress with the dragon, all things considered."

"Some." Enough, more than enough given how little time she had with it so far. It cooperated for whatever reason, and clearly she still had no idea how to gauge how attached to her it was... and it might be more attached to her than she thought. It was hard to tell how much progress had been made, all in all.

"We'll see what happens tomorrow," her mother decided, sounding unhappy about it. "But Astrid, if the Chief decides the dragon needs to go-"

"He won't," she said confidently, hiding her unease. She still owed the dragon for all it had done, but her family would rather she cut it loose to save herself if necessary. That was what her mother had been about to suggest, or maybe order. But as long as Asa didn't actually order it, Astrid had some room to work with if such a situation occurred.

She was not used to manipulating her parents. It made her feel sick to her stomach. But her honor required she do the right thing, which might not be the same from their view as it was from hers.

* * *

The rest of that night and the next morning passed in a nervous blur. She did not usually get nervous, but this was something different, something she could not really fight. A battle, but one weapons would not factor into, with life-and-death consequences nonetheless. How could she not be nervous to be relying on her planning and wit? Those were not things she had sharpened for years.

The only comfort was that her opponent was Snotlout, a Viking specifically known for having neither wit nor planning ability. She would probably be more or less fine.

The Great Hall was brightly lit, new torches lining every wall, and quite packed, looking like most of the village had decided to attend, the luckiest of Vikings getting a seat at a table instead of being stuck standing wherever there was room. A passage through the crowd split open almost spontaneously once people noticed she needed to get through. Nobody wanted to delay the start of the show.

Were people placing bets on this, like they had Ruffnut's final exam? Probably, if she knew her fellow Berkians. That felt wrong. This was not a test of strength or skill, or something entered into willingly. Nobody took bets on an actual raid or conflict between tribes; why was this not the same thing?

She made her way to the large table at the back of the Hall, seeing both that it had been kept empty, and that Stoick was standing there, along with the Elders.

She looked to each Elder in turn as she approached. They were Elders by virtue of their age. In a place that was constantly at war, living to old age was both rare and honorable in its own way, though everyone wanted to go out fighting eventually.

First and foremost among the Elders was of course Gothi. Nobody knew how old she was, or why she did not speak, but she definitely deserved to be there. Gobber was beside her, both as her translator and an Elder in his own right. Next to him was Mildew, who proved age was the only qualification. He scowled at her.

He was going to be a problem, but he was always the dissenting voice anyway. She didn't really have to take what he thought into account, as it was going to be a majority vote. If Vikings had to agree unanimously, nothing would ever get done.

Beside Mildew, Ack, Mulch, and Spitelout stood, the other three Elders.

Spitelout would be a problem, given he was Snotlout's father. Somehow, she didn't think he was going to vote in her favor. That meant she needed to convince Ack and Mulch, as well as Gothi and Gobber, to get a majority in her favor.

That shouldn't be too hard, but she really didn't know.

Oh, and there was Snotlout, his left arm in a sling, and his entire chest devoid of clothing aside from another massive bandage. He shot a vicious glare at her as she moved over to stand on the other side of the table.

She was the last one there, but clearly not by much, as the crowd was not yet impatient. Given how quickly Vikings became impatient, she must have gotten there just after the last of the Elders arrived.

"Let's get this show on the road. I've got a backlog of orders and an inexperienced apprentice who might burn down me forge if left alone too long!" Gobber shouted, officially beginning the trial. "This 'ere is technically the trial o' Astrid Hofferson for the assault on Snotlout Jorgenson, bu' we all know this ain't a normal trial."

"Thank you Gobber, we know." Stoick took over with those words, stepping up onto the sturdy table, visible to the entire crowd. "As is custom, first the aftermath will be discussed."

Gobber nodded, fishing a parchment out from somewhere in his tunic. Astrid didn't want to know exactly where he had been keeping it. "Aye, Gothi reports a broken left arm, three cracked ribs, a mild head injury, and soiled undergarments."

There was a round of snickers from the crowd after hearing that last one.

"Oy, I'm not kiddin', it's here right after 'head injury; minor on account of thick skull.'"

More laughter. Astrid wasn't sure whether it was Gothi or Gobber who had come up with that, but clearly one or both was helping her out, because that was too perfect to be coincidence. The Elders were supposed to be impartial... but as Mildew and Spitelout obviously weren't going to be, having some firmly in her corner evened it out.

"That's enough, we get the idea," Spitelout growled.

"Next," Stoick cut in, taking control once more, "we have the statement of the victim. Snotlout."

Gobber raised a hook. "Eh, Gothi also says he's not allowed to stand on the table, for fear of a dizzy spell."

"Then he will just have to shout from down there," Stoick agreed. "Get on with it, Snotlout."

Snotlout shrugged, clearly trying to ignore the embarassing list of injuries Gobber had just announced to the entire hall.

Astrid had to wonder what he was going to say. Obviously, he was going to try and twist things back around onto her, but how much of his version would be aimed at her directly, and how much at the dragon?

"Well, I joined the hunters recently," he began, his voice loud and sure. "I was just going about my business in the woods, doing my new job, when I ran into Astrid. She was _clearly _not doing anything important, climbing rocks in some random sinkhole."

So, he was going to start with that? She wasn't sure if the fact that he was a hunter, which had to be true if he was claiming it here, would help him.

"Then," he continued, "after a quick lunch break, I talked to her. I told her she should be doing what she was supposed to be doing, and she set her dragon on me... after sneaking my sword away from me."

A blatant lie. She did her best to look confused, knowing that to glare as she would like would make it look like he was telling the truth.

"Then I woke up in Gothi's hut," he finished. "I would have defended myself if she hadn't taken my sword first!"

Stoick waved a hand, cutting off the crowd's low murmuring. "Now, Astrid's side of things."

"The lass is clearly in the wrong," Spitelout objected, "and my son is injured. We should just punish her and get this over with!"

"Spitelout, stand down or leave," Stoick threatened. "We are doing this by the rules. Astrid."

She climbed up onto the table with him, as Snotlout would have were he not injured. She faced the crowd, unafraid.

"I was climbing in the sinkhole," she agreed pleasantly enough. "I thought it a good challenge, and I did not wish to waste time waiting at the dragon's den in the morning, which I had never done before, because it was more than likely it would not be there until later. I thought myself alone."

Should she mention him taking her water skin and food? No, it was a minor thing, one that would only complicate the story and distract from the real point. Also, she had gotten them back, and nobody would really care that Snotlout had stolen the fish she meant for the dragon. Not even the dragon had cared about that.

"When I finished my climbing, I had the feeling I was being watched. I saw Snotlout sitting on the edge of the sinkhole, staring. I exited the sinkhole to find him there, waiting for me. We argued."

Should she say what about? No, again, because she had no proof. It was her word against his, and she did not want to be seen as slandering him.

But if she did not bring it up now, she could never mention it again, because it would obviously, to everyone else's eyes, be made up as she surely would have told of it at the trial.

She let it go; it was not worth pursuing when there was almost no chance of anything coming of it. "He accused me of scamming the chief by not doing what I had promised, and I rightfully told him he should not be in the woods, as per the chief's orders. The argument grew heated, and he drew his sword. All I had on me was a small knife."

"Oy, that's a lie! Astrid Hofferson never goes without 'er ax!" Mildew sneered.

"Mildew, nobody gets to interrupt when the accused is telling their side of things," Stoick said, reprimanding the old man.

"He would be right," Astrid announced, "except, as my father can attest, I have determined that the dragon does not trust anyone with a weapon, and will either flee or forcefully disarm them. I had no desire to be disarmed... _again_. So I really did have nothing but a knife."

There was some muttering at that revelation. She had decided to admit that bit, that she had been disarmed before, last night in her planning. Her reputation was already suffering, and it made her look far more honest, to admit something she would obviously not want known. A planned sacrifice.

And now for the rest. "I knew not to wield a weapon in the woods. Snotlout did not, and I did not tell him otherwise, not knowing the dragon had been lurking, watching both of us. The moment he swung his sword, however, non-threateningly," and here she softened her accusations a little in order to avoid an argument over what Snotlout had intended, "the dragon took action. It took me a short time to determine how to calm it down. And I would like to point out," she remarked scornfully, looking down at Snotlout, "that I at no point touched his sword. He had it when the dragon first dropped onto him, and the dragon just did what it has proven to prefer doing, disarming anyone with a weapon first and foremost. Afterward, I enlisted its aid in bringing him out of the woods to be treated for his injuries. You all saw that."

"And that is all, Astrid?" Stoick asked.

She nodded in agreement. There was nothing more to add.

"Then it is time for me to speak, before the Elders lay down their advised punishment- for either party," he added, looking to Snotlout. "My decree that nobody was to go into the woods except in the company of Astrid did not exclude the hunters. I will not be punishing them for their disobedience, as it was clearly a misunderstanding, but I will not tolerate further disobedience, and do consider Snotlout to have defied my direct orders, even if will not punish him for it this time, as it was done out of ignorance."

The Elders huddled into a circle around Gothi, mostly because she needed space on the floor to scratch runes for Gobber to translate, and discussed what they would decide.

Whatever they decided was not final, it needed the chief's approval, but he would not directly invalidate them. He could only soften or harshen the punishment a little. To do otherwise would be to disrupt the balance of power, which was bad for everyone. Berk needed a united interior to face threats from the rest of the world. They could not afford too much internal conflict.

There was also the will of the crowd to take into account. Astrid didn't know what the majority of the village now thought of all this, but that they were not booing her or Snotlout implied there were no overwhelming opinions. That might change.

Eventually, after a few minutes of debate, the Elders stepped back, and Gobber stepped forward, nodding to Stoick as he stepped up and Stoick stepped down, the latter likely doing so more to preserve the table than anything. It could only hold so much, and two full-sized Vikings was the definition of 'so much and then some.'

"After some, eh, debate," Gobber announced, his voice clear and loud, "we've found Astrid Hofferson innocent o' assaultin' Snotlout Jorgenson with a dragon. The dragon, as it's imperfectly trained bu' obeyed her orders to the extent it had been taught, by all accounts, is also innocent- o' this one, anyway. Snotlout Jorgenson did defy the Chief's orders, bu' the Chief ain't gonna to punish him for it, both because it was a misunderstanding instead o' intentional defiance, and because the boy suffered exactly what the order is meant to prevent, a mauling by an untrained dragon."

That was what she had hoped for; both Ack and Mulch must have taken her side to provide such a clear majority opinion in her favor. She hadn't expected Snotlout to come out of this with any further punishment anyway; she agreed that the broken bones and humiliation were enough for what he had been publicly accused of.

The rest had not been addressed, and would not be, but she would have to live with that- and she would live on guard against future attempts. The next thing on her to-do list was to train the dragon to let her have a weapon, so she could bring her training ax at the very least on all future trips.

"I declare this to be a good decision," Stoick announced, retaking the stage- well, table. "And one more thing. I understand that this whole situation with the dragon in the woods is... unclear."

And now he was going to explain it, as she had considered requesting when trying to combat the rumors. It probably, according to both of the twins at least, would not help, but it could not really hurt. This had all fallen out quite well in the end.

"We fight dragons, and they fight us," Stoick announced. "For now, that is the way it is. But Astrid has seen the nest. It is not invincible, not unreachable. It is just a challenge."

Astrid noticed that he was not talking of the very much seemingly-invincible monstrosity there, but that was fine, it wasn't like he was about to announce another nest hunt.

"And to fight that and other challenges, we take whatever we can get, whatever is available," Stoick continued. "My son," and there he faltered for the briefest of moments, "left us a gift, if we can use it, and it saved Astrid's life several times over. She is working to domesticate and control it, so that we may use it against its own brethren in the future, preserving our own lives to be spent on the real fight- on the nest!"

That might have sounded a little discouraging, but to Vikings it was perfect. There was a rousing round of applause, and very little dissent. Anyone could approve of sending animals to fight animals so that they would be free to take on the real battles.

Astrid wasn't so sure she liked looking at it that way. She wanted to use it however was best for it as well as them, because she wanted to keep it alive. And she had harbored thoughts of it fighting alongside her, not just killing dragons on its own. But that was all still possible, this was a speech about the general idea, not the specifics.

"And I know it mauling Snotlout is a bit worrying," Stoick continued. "But think of how that will feel when it is not Snotlout, but an enemy? Knowing a dragon, this dragon, fights for us? And it does fight for us."

He looked down at Astrid as he said the next part. "Astrid will demonstrate how far she has come to the village, to ease worries about the dangers involved. Tom-"

She shook her head wildly, silently pleading for more time, anything better than _tomorrow!_

He understood. "No, the day after tomorrow. But it will happen, and she will demonstrate."

She really needed to learn not to celebrate her good fortune until all was said and done. This was going to be a problem, because she was nowhere near ready to demonstrate her control over the dragon in front of the whole village.

Hel, she couldn't be sure it wouldn't attack the first villager it saw!

And the Chief had given her until... the day after tomorrow. This was a mess.

_**Author's Note: **_**You know, it's fitting Astrid is feeling so rushed; due to upcoming events, next chapter is coming soon, this Friday, as opposed to next Monday.**


	14. Mixed Results

_**Author's Note: **_**Next chapter will bring us back to the normal schedule; sorry for the nine-day wait, I guess.**

A demonstration. Astrid had to show the village that the dragon followed her orders... and she had to do it the day after tomorrow. When, just yesterday, that same dragon had mauled Snotlout. Why in the world did the Chief think this was a good idea?

Maybe he was confident in her ability to do as promised, or maybe he was enthusiastic about her progress, seeing in their future a dragon as yet another weapon in Berk's arsenal. In either case, he was ensuring the village was okay with all of this.

Or maybe he just saw this as something, anything of Hiccup's, and wanted it to do well, despite what it was. Would he be so enthusiastic if Hiccup was doing this, in the days before the final exam?

No, of course not. Something had changed, and she could trace it back to Hiccup's death. Losing him, along with what had happened between her and the dragon, was a one-two punch strong enough to convince a famous dragon killer to let this happen, and even to support it.

She had Hiccup to thank for this. Both that there was no mob hunting the dragon across Berk right now, and that there might be if the demonstration she had just been forced into agreeing to give the day after tomorrow went badly. If he were here, she wouldn't know whether to punch him or throttle him.

Or collapse in pure relief, letting him take all of this off of her hands. If he was here, now, however that could be achieved, there would be absolutely no pressure on her, no circumstances forcing her further and further into a corner-

No. No fantasizing about all of her problems just going away. She had to deal with them, not hand them to someone else.

So, she made her way out of the Great Hall, trying not to listen to the excited discussion about all of this.

Where was she going? It might be a question for the people watching her leave, but it wasn't in question for her. Back to the woods, because she had less than two whole days to get the dragon ready to...

There were so many issues, she didn't even know where to start! First, she needed to be sure it wouldn't just attack or flee the moment it saw a crowd of enthusiastic Vikings. That was assuming they wouldn't be armed, a minor miracle she wasn't sure even the Chief could pull off. That also assumed they would all be content to watch, and not jeer, throw insults, or other more physical projectiles. Most of the village might see this as a curiosity or something to be tolerated, but there would be some just _itching _for a chance to disrupt things and claim any excuse to kill the dragon.

And all of that was assuming nobody recognized it for what it was! A Night Fury! She didn't-

"Mind if I follow along?" a familiar voice asked. "You don't look-"

Tuffnut. She wanted to shove him away and get back to the all-important task of figuring out what in Odin's name she was going to do. "Go away, I need to think!"

"Not my strong suit, and not yours either, I think," he commented, following her through the village. "Any way I can help?"

She whirled, too distracted to really be mad that he thought she needed help. Besides, she did, just not from him. "Unless you want to come and be an example of what not to attack when I try and teach it to ignore people, no!"

"Sounds good," he agreed. "Now?"

Astrid blinked, surprised by the offer. Then reason kicked in. She needed an example besides herself. That wasn't just an excuse to get him to leave; it was a good idea. "Now. Come on." Tuffnut's helpful attitude was insane, but she was not in the mood to care. He was also only the second person she would ever have brought into the woods, but that didn't matter. She was mildly sure as long as he was unarmed he wouldn't be mauled- and if he was, well then that was his fault.

Tuffnut held his silence until they passed under the first overgrown tree. Then he spoke, managing to sound nonchalant. "Never thought you'd actually agree to let me help."

"Are you backing out?" She wasn't sure if she would prefer that or not. She had to train the dragon in two days; Tuffnut's participation didn't make that any less daunting.

"No, just surprised." They continued in silence for a few moments. "You look like you're about to explode and kill something."

She did feel like that. She pulled out the rusty knife, holding it with a clenched fist, and stabbed the nearest tree, burying it up to the hilt.

"Better it than me," he noted.

"Do the same," she instructed, deciding to focus on this first. "I assume you have some sort of weapon on you."

He pulled a long hunting knife out from wherever it had been hidden. "My spear's back at my hut, stuck in a stuffed Yak."

She didn't ask. "Stab that in here. We can come get it on the way back." They were close to the village, and she could find this place again. "No weapons around it, or you'll get some of what Snotlout did."

He did as told, though his knife was too long to be buried to the hilt, and continued to follow her deeper into the forest. "What exactly, did Snotlout get?"

"You heard the list of injuries."

"Astrid, an injury is just the result. I like to hear about the process." His voice was enthusiastic. That, she noted, was something she would have expected from the old Tuffnut, the fascination with violence.

She decided to humor him. "Abruptly dragged into the trees, dropped from the trees, slammed into a boulder twice, tripped, and crushed under a paw. All in the space of less than a minute. Then it punched him."

Tuffnut laughed at that. "The dragon punches?"

"Yes, it does." It probably wasn't capable of hitting very hard like that, but it did punch.

"All because he pointed a sword at you," Tuffnut mused, sounding more serious now. "Something about that bothers me."

She knew what he was alluding to. "Don't bother trying to convince me. I've been thoroughly convinced already. I'm pretty sure he was on the verge of it before the dragon interfered."

Tuffnut growled, sounding a little like a dragon himself, and kicked a nearby bush. "Figures. He deserved what he got. You _did _say mauled and broken. Did you expect this?"

"No, it didn't mean anything." Just a coincidentally accurate choice of words. "I planned to break him myself if he went that far."

"How did that work out?"

She found herself answering honestly. "I was going to lose. He had a good weapon, I had a knife. I'm still not back up to where I should be, so even if I held him off, I would tire too quickly to get away." And she wasn't strong enough to physically keep him off of her. It was a terrible thought, but she would not deceive herself. Not admitting the truth to herself had put her in that position to begin with. She should have brought the training ax, but she had been unjustifiably overconfident.

"So the dragon saved you." Tuffnut didn't sound all that bothered by the idea. "What, exactly, does it still need to be taught between now and the demonstration?"

Back to the very question she had asked herself. "Pretty much everything. How to not attack at the first hint of a weapon, how to ignore idiots jeering at it, a few commands to prove it listens... everything."

"Okay.. what does it know now? Sounds like that's the shorter list."

He wasn't wrong about that, she realized with a scowl. "Commands? Carry, drag, shake, bring. That's it. It lets me touch it without problems, which took some doing, and it's pretty docile with just me."

"So... not much," he remarked. "Is shake the 'death-roll' kind of shake, or the 'cute puppy' kind?"

"Puppy," she replied shortly, a little embarrassed. "I just wanted to see how long it would take to teach it something."

"I wanna see that first," he decided. "Maybe brag about shaking hands or claws with a dragon. What kind is it?"

"It's…" she trailed off, thinking of something.

"Yes?" Tuffnut asked eagerly.

"Actually, I'm not telling you. If you can't figure it out, the village won't be able to either." She might have been hesitant to base the village off of one of the twins, but Tuffnut on his own was like a different person. She could be pretty confident he was at least at the average level of intelligence for a Viking of Berk.

"A guessing game," he mused, sliding under a branch. "No hints?"

"Nope."

They walked the rest of the way to the dragon's den in relative silence. Tuffnut was clearly puzzling over the mystery already, and Astrid really, really needed to compose her thoughts into something resembling an actual, doable plan.

That meant planning out her demonstration, so that she knew what to teach the dragon. It needed to be clearly under her control, but she could keep the actual showing off of it short to avoid unnecessary exposure to fickle Vikings. Under no circumstances was she letting anyone come closer than twenty feet. That field was a good place to do the demonstration; with everyone staying out of it. Close to the forest in case of emergency, not in the village itself, open to prevent idiot Vikings lying in ambush, and nothing obstructing vision, meaning she could reasonably specify that nobody come close.

People probably wouldn't be happy with that, but she didn't care. She would rather have a short, safe demonstration than a long, ridiculously risky one.

But what would work best? She knew what would impress her, were she watching, but that didn't necessarily translate to what would impress the village. "Tuffnut, what are you expecting to see when I do the demonstration?"

"Like, what you'll do?" He hopped a small fallen tree, pulling his knees up to his stomach to make the jump. "Well, I guess I was thinking it would make an entrance, dropping in from the sky, maybe a spin-"

She cut her hand through the air, also cutting him off verbally. "Not going to happen. It's not able to fly right now."

"So... it's grounded here." He shrugged. "You say now. How soon could it get into the air?"

She recalled Gobber's warning. "If I told Gobber and Fishlegs to get on it today, probably a month or so. Longer for me to get used to flying with it."

Tuffnut's mouth dropped open. "You know," he said slowly, "I hadn't really thought about that. What's it like to fly?"

"Amazing or terrifying depending on what you're doing," she responded flatly, wondering how it was possible he had never considered the obvious part of having a dragon at one's beck and call. "But that's not an option right now."

"Okay, so have it make an entrance from the ground," he continued. "I guess... well, just have it act tame. Maybe show off a few things like flaming on command?"

She added that to her mental list. Firing on command was a good, flashy way to demonstrate-

Then she remembered what kind of dragon they were talking about. Vikings didn't know what a Night Fury looked like, but the definitely knew its shots. "Can't do that one either. It would give away the dragon's species."

Tuffnut shrugged. "That would have to be a pretty good hint."

"It would be." Night Fury blasts were blue or purple, and explosive on impact. No other dragon had fire at all like that.

"So no fire, no flying... not going to be much of a show," he concluded. "So make it quick. Give the village a good look, show the dragon pouncing ferociously or whatever it does, and then show it licking your feet or something."

"What it looks like, how dangerous it can be, and how obedient it is," Astrid summarized. "That works. Now I just need specifics."

"Don't look at me, it's your pet." Tuffnut glanced over at her. "And that's really weird. You're the last person on Berk I'd expect to make good with a dragon. Hiccup, I can see. But you?"

"Wasn't my choice," she explained shortly. "We spent weeks sharing a raft. I built the raft, and it paddled when there was no wind. Neither of us would have lived through getting back to Berk without the other."

"So... that's why you have no problem working with it? It helped you?" He sounded dismissive. "Sorry, still don't get it."

"There's nothing more to it," she complained. "So you had better get it." They were getting close to the den now. "Also, we're nearly there."

"Where?"

"Where I meet it, most of the time." She wasn't going to flat-out confirm that this was where it slept at night... or day? It looked like it should be nocturnal, but she had never seen it sleeping in the day, so she couldn't be sure.

"Looks like a trap to me," he remarked, stopping short of the clearing littered with dead branches.

"Yes, it is," she agreed, stepping out and cracking a few branches beneath her boot.

Tuffnut stepped out to stand beside her, nervously looking around. "I'd like it better if I could see it."

"Look up," she instructed, having already caught a glimpse of black scales in the canopy. "Make no aggressive moves; speak softly. It likes eye contact. Don't avoid that."

"Weird," he said cautiously. "Nobody likes eye contact."

"This dragon does." She pointed up at the canopy where she guessed the dragon was lurking now. "Get down here, we don't have time to waste playing 'can the Viking see me' with Tuffnut."

The dragon obligingly dropped to the ground, stalking closer as soon as all four paws made contact.

"It rolls its eyes?" Tuffnut asked curiously. "And looks very, very fun."

Of course he would call it fun. For him, fun and deadly were interchangeable. "Fun. Right."

She walked up to the dragon, leaving Tuffnut alone in the clearing. "Good dragon," she reassured it. "Time to get to work."

"Should I be doing something?" Tuffnut called out.

"Yes, standing there," she instructed, before turning back to the dragon. "Okay, time to teach you to behave."

First, she needed to establish what should not happen. She walked up to Tuffnut, closely trailed by the dragon. They both faced him.

He was sweating. She smiled; it was nice to know even one of the twins could feel nervous in the right circumstances.

"Observe," she instructed, wondering as she did whether that was an actual command she should teach it later. "Tuffnut, push me."

"Sure," he agreed, and shoved her.

The dragon pounced, flattening him.

She had expected as much, and immediately crouched by Tuffnut's slightly crushed form, getting into the dragon's line of sight. The first command she wanted to teach was for emergencies. "Release."

The dragons snorted, eyeing her questioningly.

"Please?" Tuffnut added breathlessly. "Astrid, this is... not what I signed up for. Even if it is awesome, I'd like to... breathe... to appreciate said... awesomeness."

"Release," she repeated, pushing futilely at the dragon's broad chest. After a moment of deliberation, it backed up, freeing Tuffnut, who rolled away.

"Good dragon," she praised. "Okay, that's one done. Could have used that yesterday."

Tuffnut, now standing with his hands on his knees, groaned at that. "That's it?"

"Should I demonstrate?" she asked. "It only needs to learn once, and it remembers."

"Sure, demonstrate," Tuffnut agreed, straightening up. "Same as before?"

"Hit me this time," she requested. Best to be sure she wasn't too specific on which offenses against herself merited any of this.

Tuffnut obligingly punched her shoulder, and went down yet again.

"Release," she instructed, speaking calmly but forcefully.

The dragon pulled back immediately, looking up at her with a look she somehow knew meant it understood. Not just what she was teaching, but why. Snotlout.

"Yeah, for that kind of thing," she absently agreed.

"What?" Tuffnut had recovered far quicker this time around.

"Nothing," she hedged, realizing she had spoken aloud. "See? It remembers."

"Yes, and that's awesome," he stated approvingly. "What else do you need my help teaching?"

"Plenty more," she admitted. Now, what next?

* * *

'Next' turned out to be quite a lot of simple commands. Release. Come, so that if it ran off she could call it back, assuming it listened. Go, a command to move to wherever she was pointing. All were simple, easy commands the ran through in a few hours, practicing to be sure the dragon understood the full context. Such as 'go' meaning to go where Astrid pointed, and not, say, to go to the left. Repetition ensured comprehension, but it ate up valuable time.

This latest command, on the other hand, was giving them some trouble. It made sense that the all-important 'ignore' would be a bit difficult to convey, even with Tuffnut's help.

The dragon was currently sitting in its field of branches, its back to the forest. She stood in front of it, looking into its eyes. Tuffnut...

Tuffnut was currently singing at the top of his lungs a few feet behind the dragon's back, and randomly screaming to boot, interrupting his song wherever he saw fit. She wasn't even sure what song he was trying to sing by this point. The noise was near intolerable, which was the point.

The dragon's ears flicked almost constantly, and its head began to turn to the side, ever so slowly.

"No. Ignore," Astrid chastised. This was very important. If she could get it to ignore one of the previously most obnoxious Vikings on Berk, it could be relied upon to ignore a small mob. Probably even a large, war-ready mob, given how insane Tuffnut was being, but a small one was all it would have to deal with right now.

The dragon whined pitifully, casting her a pleading look. It _really _did not like the singing.

"Hey, I'm not that bad," Tuffnut objected, somehow noticing the complaint. "You should hear Gobber. Or Fishlegs!"

Astrid smiled slightly as the dragon rolled its eyes again, still reluctantly facing her and doing nothing. This was the fourth attempt at keeping its attention on her despite distractions, but now it seemed to get the need, if not the purpose. She was confident it would be fine during the demonstration.

Just a moment more, to be sure. "Tuffnut, grand finale," she instructed, covering her own ears.

Tuffnut obliged her by screaming as loudly as he could, startling a distant flock of birds- or possibly Terrible Terrors. There were none on Berk, but he could likely be heard from outlying sea stacks, so that was still a possibility.

The dragon visibly winced, but did not turn to look, glare, or disembowel.

Then Tuffnut tapped it on the back. "Hey, I don't like being ignored."

It responded by flaring both wings, throwing him backwards.

Astrid didn't chastise it for that. "Good dragon. I think we're done with 'ignore' for now."

"Revenge," Tuffnut cried out, rising to his feet once more.

"That was our revenge for the singing," she retorted. "Pray I consider it enough."

"You haven't taught it to attack yet," he blustered. "All of this is to stop it from doing that."

"Yes, but how do you think I will go about teaching stuff like 'attack' or 'blast' or 'disembowel?'" she asked neutrally. "I'll need a target."

"Never mind, all good here." He warily approached the dragon, holding out a hand. "Shake?"

The dragon shook its head and turned away.

"You know it only listens to me." That was actually a very nice thing to know for sure, now that the dragon was on neutral terms with someone other than her. She still did not know why, but the fact remained. It only listened to her.

"Fine, close enough." He sat down on the ground, several branches breaking under him. "Are we done here?"

She pat the dragon, rewarding it for a hard few hours of work in the only way she really knew how. "Pretty much. I can teach the rest tomorrow, by myself. We went over all of the stuff you can help with."

"Okay. I have work tomorrow anyway." He seemed fine with that.

"But there is one more thing I want to do." She was in a less frantic mood now, and there was something that just would not stop bugging her. She slapped the dragon on the snout, gently enough that it would hopefully understand she was not angry with it.

"Uh..." Tuffnut objected.

She smiled as the dragon warbled and shifted stance, bringing its tail up.

Block to one side, then the other. Jump, to avoid the sweep, and-

She hopped backward just in time to avoid a paw to the stomach, and then jabbed out with her own fist, thinking that she could-

No, the dragon tilted to the side without moving its paws and slapped her hand away with one of its ears before head-butting her to the ground. Not hard, but fast.

She laughed a little as she stood. "Next time, next time for sure."

Tuffnut's mouth was hanging open. "How did you see all of that coming?"

"I didn't," she revealed. "It's the same pattern every time. Only my punch and onwards was new."

"Do that at the demonstration," he recommended. "You know we Vikings love a good sparring match, or better yet a good brawl."

"Maybe," she hedged, not sure if she wanted to show something that felt... personal, almost.

"You know..." Tuffnut shrugged, standing up to leave. "Never mind."

"What?" She had caught something in his voice, a sadness.

"It's nothing."

"Tell me." She would not be put off that easily.

"That reminded me of Ruff and me," he admitted slowly. "We knew each other well enough to do that whenever. That's all."

Just a coincidence. "It's a pattern. Anyone could do it after a few tries."

"Pretty sure I'd be pinned and sat on if I tried," he retorted. "You're the only one it will let do that, I'd bet. Maybe now I get why you're okay with it."

She didn't understand what had changed for him to get it now but not before, but as long as he understood. "Good. You'll be there for the demonstration?" She might be able to count on his assistance in controlling the crowd. He knew what to look out for now, having provoked the dragon in every possible way over the last few hours.

"I'll be there," he promised. "And... the village is that way, right?" he asked, pointing in the right direction, across the heart of the island.

"Yes." She would stay a little longer. Less frantic or not, they only had the few lingering hours of this day, and the next.

* * *

The next day was spent going over what had been learned the day before, and teaching less essential commands, ones intended to demonstrate both its deadliness and its obedience. She had a strangely large amount of trouble with finding a good command for the latter. The dragon refused to do certain things, like licking her boots. Eventually she settled on bowing, because she could disguise it as seeking out a scent. Thus, the command that would demonstrate subservience was 'scent.' She would just have to be sure nobody heard that one well enough to make out what it was.

And then the day was upon her. The Chief had set the time to be morning, and had agreed that she could hold the demonstration in the field of her choice. The rest of the village would be restricted to the edges of said field, and none would watch from the forest.

She had not, however, even tried to get everyone to disarm themselves. If she really wanted all of Berk to not be holding weapons, she would have had to kill everyone and pry said weapons from their cold, dead hands. One did not separate a Berkian and her or his weapon of choice.

Maybe that was part of why she still felt strange without her old ax, but had felt equally odd with the new one. Either way, she was separated from her weapon of choice.

No matter. She made her way into the woods at dawn, hiking all the way to the dragon's den. It was awake and alert, burying something just outside of the clearing. She wasn't sure what it was burying, but she didn't really care, and a single command to 'follow' was sufficient to get it back to the edges of the forest.

"Wait," she instructed, and left it there, lurking, ready to emerge if needed. She herself walked out into the field, seeing that what looked to be everyone who lived on the island watching from the village or standing at the edge of the field. Some Vikings had even scaled their huts to get a better view.

Stoick was there, along with the rest of the elders. Mildew even had Fungus, and was holding the sheep tightly, clutching his staff in the other hand.

Now she was really glad Tuffnut had gone all out in teaching the dragon to ignore any and everything. A sheep might have been a distraction, but after Tuffnut, she was sure the dragon could resist the temptation. It had resisted silencing Tuffnut, which had to be much more tempting than any kind of hunger would be.

"Get on wit' it," someone yelled. She ignored them for the moment, still scanning the crowd.

There was Fishlegs, somehow already furiously taking notes despite there being absolutely nothing to see yet. Tuffnut was also in the crowd, lurking behind a group of burly men with shields and maces at the ready. She had no idea what he'd do to stop them from disrupting the demonstration, but knowing someone, anyone was going to attempt to keep things going smoothly from that side was a good feeling.

"Lass, we don't have all day," Stoick announced kindly enough. "Are you ready to show us?"

She strode out to the center of the field, repositioning herself to hopefully see everyone, if only out of the corner of her eyes in some cases, and raised her voice. "I did not ask for this. But the dragon would not kill me, and I will not let that go to waste. It is not totally trained, but what I have is enough for a small demonstration." Or, it was now. She almost didn't want the Chief to feel totally validated for forcing her into this so soon, but she would do her best regardless. "Make no sudden moves. Do not walk out into the field. Make no loud noises."

"Would ye like us to whisper nice things while we're at it?" someone jeered. "Maybe avert our eyes for the shy beast?"

"No, but I expect you to behave honorably," she shot back, not even attempting to locate the speaker in the crowd. "It is not fully trained. I take no responsibility for its actions if intentionally provoked, and will blame the provoker. Do not make me seek repayment in blood. I put far too much effort into this for an idiot to ruin it."

There. That was enough intimidation and threatening... on her part. "Dragon!" she shouted, "come."

There was a beat of silence before the dragon emerged from the woods, stalking threateningly towards her. She knew that it was not trying to threaten her; its eyes were wary, darting from one place to the other.

She would have to use her most valuable command first. "Ignore," she asserted, gesturing to the assorted crowd. "Eyes on me."

That helped quite a bit, though it was still obviously both skittish and wary. It circled around her, closing in rapidly, slinking towards her in its haste to be away from the many eyes watching silently.

That was good. Everyone was too shocked, or amazed, or flat-out unable to believe their eyes, to do anything but watch. She would end the demonstration as soon as they began to come out of that state if necessary. That meant she needed to move fast.

"Go," she began, pointing to a spot a few feet away. It did as told.

"Attention." It immediately tensed, ready to fight. That one had been easy to teach.

"Leap." It leaped up, jumping startlingly high. It was beginning to stare at her oddly. She had never used so many different commands so quickly in succession, and they were not alone...

"Ignore," she repeated, seeing the doubt in its eyes. "Flank."

It obligingly darted to her side, rubbing up against her and glaring ahead, its mouth open. Not glowing with readied fire; she did not want to take that risk.

There was a loud 'baaaaaa!' from Mildew's direction.

Astrid smiled, though it was a strained expression. The dragon was too... was it confused? Wary, for sure. Whatever the exact emotion, it did not care in the slightest about the sheep.

But Mildew was trying to break the demonstration. Others would follow. No matter how tame, Berkians by and large had too much bad blood with dragons to tolerate one right in front of them for long. She needed to wrap this up.

She crouched, turning to face the dragon. "Shake."

It shook her hand, but now there was definitely something brewing behind those eyes. It did not like this.

She scrapped the rest of the commands she had intended to use, unable to bear the tension much longer. This would have to suffice.

Last one. She stood, looking down at it, hopefully looking fully in control. "Scent."

The dragon looked up at her, and then out at the crowd.

"Ignore. Scent." This was the last one, couldn't it hold its composure a little longer?

But... it did not look wary now. Now it looked... betrayed. What?

It growled, shook its head, and slunk away, back to the woods.

"Come!" she blurted out, knowing it would not listen. She should not have said that, it undermined her appearance of control even further.

But... that was it. She could spin this, if not in her favor then at least to be less embarrassing. "As I said," she announced, "I am far from done. I think that should suffice." That really should have been a question directed at the Chief, not an assertion, but she had no more to show for now in any case.

Not to mention a suddenly recalcitrant dragon. What had changed?

"Good enough for now, Astrid," Stoick agreed. "Next time, I think I speak for everyone in wanting to see more... battle-applicable training. And flying."

She gaped at him. "Sir? I'm going to need a lot more time for that."

"You have a month," he remarked casually. "No more. I cannot move that deadline."

"Why not?!" He was the Chief!

"We will have visitors, and I want this next demonstration to occur while they are on island. The Windy Isle tribe is coming to discuss a few things."

"And... you didn't think to tell me... before now?" She would have been far less slow-moving if she knew there was such a huge deadline to work towards. And since when was Berk expecting visitors? As it was, she would only have a few days to work on flight, because it would take a few weeks to get the saddle and tail built!

"You'll be fine," the Chief blithely asserted. "You did great today. A little rough around the edges by the end, but still!"

That seemed to be the cue for people to begin to depart, though they did so slowly and reluctantly, most still staring out at the woods as if hoping for another glimpse...

Or in a few cases, clearly hoping for it to come charging out in attack so they could kill it. She knew the look Spitelout, Mildew, Snotlout, and many of the more brutish men and women of the tribe were wearing; it meant death if they were allowed to deal it out.

And she was getting quite a few stares herself. If her reputation was not plummeting before now, it would be. She could just hear the whispers now.

Astrid's gone soft, Astrid isn't a warrior or else she would have killed it, why is Astrid training it? All horrible for the reputation she had always held, that of a fierce, immovable warrior in training.

She was never going to get that reputation back. What drove that reluctant realization home was the faces of children being led away with their parents. Even if things went back to how they should be tomorrow, those children would never forget, and they would never let the rest of Berk forget, either. She would have to outlive them to outlive this day.

And it hadn't even been perfect! All of this, her image gone to tatters, and the dragon had ended the demonstration by defying her! And it had the gall to be the one looking betrayed.

She still didn't know why. That bothered her almost as much as the rest of it did. Why?

It didn't matter! She stalked off into the crowd, headed to her room to get the schematics Gobber and Fishlegs would need in the coming weeks. What needed to be done for her honor would be done. Even if it was starting to not feel worth it.


	15. The Proper Response

Astrid trudged back through the field toward the village, feeling distinctly unhappy. The dragon had fled, ending her otherwise mostly successful demonstration on a sour note. The Chief had praised her and told her to be ready for another, bigger, more elaborate demonstration for another tribe.

Although, on the bright side, nobody had tried to kill her or the dragon throughout the performance, something she would, were she in a better mode, marvel at. An entire village of dragon-killers, holding back from a kill? Maybe they respected her and Stoick too much to try anything.

But as she walked back through the crowd, heading home, out from under the Chief's watchful eyes, whispers began to follow her passage, low voices hissing and murmuring forebodingly, drawing that optimistic theory out and destroying it. Dark looks were cast in her direction, angry stares laid upon her back. Nothing too open, but nothing all that subtle, either; they were Vikings, after all.

Astrid tried not to hear the words whispered about her. She knew all too well what they would say. The looks and glares were far harder to ignore, and just as hurtful. Nobody struck at her, but somehow that made it all feel even worse.

It was out in the open, now. What was the saying? Something about needing to see to believe?

She had always assumed the village was just following their Chief's lead on this, more or less. He approved, so they tolerated. In retrospect, she now saw the apathy of most of Berk towards what she was doing as what it truly was, or had been.

Waiting. They had been told there was something in the woods, told to stay out, and not shown anything. They didn't really know what was going on. Half of the rumors she had heard were about her saving the dragon to kill it during the next raid and claim glory by pretending it was an attacking dragon. Those rumors, while not good, had fostered the confusion over what she was really doing. Now, hearing the ugly comments directed at her just loudly enough that she would be sure to notice, she knew what had happened.

The village had been too confused to really believe what they were told. But now they had seen, and seeing was believing. This was the reaction she should have expected when Stoick first forbid people entering the woods. And it was just starting.

She did not walk faster or let on that she was aware of the hostility around her, but it was hard, and she sighed in relief once the door to her hut closed behind her. This was bad.

This was what she deserved. It was just a little late in coming.

No, she was only acting as honor required!

Whatever! She slammed her hand on the nearest wall, breaking herself out of the circular line of thought running through her mind to no conclusion. Every time she thought about it, it just made her mad, so she wasn't going to.

She had something to do. That was what she needed to focus on. The Chief had rewarded her mostly succeeding in meeting his insane deadline by giving her another, possibly even worse one. Higher stakes, higher requirements, and almost as little time, relatively speaking.

She felt a little like screaming at the thought of all that would have to be done to be ready for _that_ performance. The dragon hadn't even lasted the short time spent in front of just her village today!

But there was one thing that she at once could do, knew how to do, and needed done as soon as possible.

She sat down on the edge of her bed and quickly rifled through Hiccup's parchments, taking everything that involved the saddle or tailfin in any way. She also grabbed the partially filled notebook that had contained the best schematics of both.

It might take Gobber anywhere from a few days to a few weeks to decipher and construct all of this, and she needed it as soon as possible, because Stoick had specified flying this time around. She would not disobey her Chief if at all possible. At least he was happy with what he had seen today.

Necessary parchments in hand, Astrid stood at the front door of her house... and hesitated there.

She did not want to go through the village. She was afraid of what she would hear.

That thought made her blood boil, but it was true. She was afraid.

She shoved the door open defiantly, almost to spite her own fear, and began the trip anyway. If fear was going to plague her, then she would work through it.

The whispers were flat-out statements now, made for anyone to hear. She could no longer ignore them.

"... thought she was better than that..."

"So much for 'she's keepin' it to kill for glory,' Harn. Ye got any other nice, comfortin' lies to spread?" The man speaking glared at her, making his displeasure clear. "Better that than this."

"Small, light, dangerous but weak, I wager." One of the more pigheaded warriors commented. "Fitting, she's just as small and weak now. Never woulda thought it o' her, but 'ere we are."

She clenched her fists, acutely feeling both her lack of a weapon and lack of a leg to stand on. The very taunts she had worked so hard over the last half a dozen years to avoid were being thrown at her. Small. Weak.

More of the same, repeated over and over again in slightly different ways, followed her as she walked quickly through the village once more. Abuse directed at her appearance, at her betrayal of the Viking way, or even at her family name. She had to ignore it, because they were doing nothing but talking... and because the crowd would turn on her completely if she attacked any of the speakers. The only saving grace was that they in turn would do nothing but talk, because as much as they might be coming to despise her or what she was doing, they were all loyal to the Chief. Most of them could still probably see the value in what she was doing, too. They just didn't feel like appreciating her for doing it.

There were stories, ones she had heard as a slightly younger child, about Viking tribes hiring wandering mercenaries to aid in large battles. Said mercenaries were great warriors, but they wandered because they had no tribe to defend for whatever reason.

The undertone to all of those stories, she saw now, was disgust. The warriors did useful things, but they exemplified failure. A failure to protect their tribe, or a failure to remain loyal to their tribe, or even the failure of being cast out. She could very well imagine much of the same kind of abuse hurled at one of those warriors. Kept around for what they could do, but scorned for their failings all the same.

It helped a little, to see it like that. She was not alone in this; she simply had a different set of circumstances to blame for the treatment.

Regardless of that way of looking at things, it still hurt, and she walked quickly. The blacksmith's shop was devoid of customers at the moment, but she slipped inside rather than stand out in the open at the window.

Fishlegs was, unsurprisingly, totally ignoring whatever work he was supposed to be doing in favor of rapidly writing in his worn notebook. He didn't even look up as she walked in. She lightly hit him with the parchments, dropping them on his workbench. "I need both of these done as soon as Gobber can make them."

Fishlegs started at the sound of her voice, jumping to stand at attention, his notebook held behind his back. "Astrid!"

"Fishlegs," she repeated, pointing at the parchments. "I need these made."

"I'm not exactly good with a forge yet," he mumbled, paling as he spoke. "Don't set your dragon on me!"

She felt like punching him, or maybe just giving up. She chose the latter, scowling all the while. "I didn't want you to make them! Just get the schematics to Gobber, and maybe help him understand them if he needs it. I need them done as soon as possible."

He put a hand to his shoulder, staring at her. "Okay... Uhh... Astrid?"

"What?"

He pointed to her face, cringing. "You have some dust in your eyes."

She brusquely ran her arm across her face, hating the slight wetness that it picked up. No tears. Just unshed ones. Frustration, nothing more. Or just dust aggravating her eyes, like he had said.

She was done here, but she wanted nothing less than to go back out there and make the walk back to her home. Back through the gauntlet, it felt like. So she stood there. Procrastinating.

It took Fishlegs a moment to pick up on the fact that she wasn't planning to leave. "Right now?"

"At least tell me you can get enough from those to know how to make them," she gritted. "Those are all I could find."

Fishlegs quickly leaned over the bench and began flipping through the parchments, moving slower and slower as each one registered. "This is so far out of my league, it might take-"

"Gobber's league, not yours," she clarified harshly. "He'll do the making, and probably everything else."

"Hey, I can do some things!" Fishlegs looked up angrily. "And I've only been at this a week! Hiccup had years, and he was here pretty much all day, every day when he could be." He waved a parchment almost frantically. "How long would it take _you_?"

She didn't answer. They both knew she couldn't do it, or if she could it would be a long, slow process of learning that would undoubtedly take months or even years.

"But yeah, it looks like there's enough here," Fishlegs continued, breaking the silence. "Gobber will get on it when he can."

"As soon as possible. It needs to be done before the Windy Isle tribe visits, and I have to have time to learn to use it, too." Really, why was the Windy Isle tribe even willing to come out here? It was still warm at the moment, but Winter was coming, and soon. They would be right on the edge of it being too cold to safely sail back- though many tribes sailed any time they wanted as long as the sea wasn't frozen solid. That was coming, two or so months from now.

Fishlegs shuffled behind a rack of swords and began doing something. She didn't care enough to find out what. Organizing, most likely, as that was all she had seen him doing on her last visit. Gobber wasn't here, so nothing useful would get done.

She was still procrastinating. She couldn't stay in here all day.

But she had to keep moving, to do what needs to be done. There was no time to be spent hiding in the blacksmith's shop. There was so much else that needed to be done, more important things.

Things like figuring out the dragon... again. She didn't _want _to puzzle over that, or confront it on its sudden disobedience. Last time had been confusing enough, and she was so tired of blindly struggling when the only immediate result was this.

She was tired. But it needed to be done. That was fast becoming a mantra. Need, not want. Need did not change with the village's opinions. She would not change.

Astrid braced herself, forcing down every hint of emotion. The people outside were going to mock her, insult her, and cut at her, and she was going to ignore it. Like she had trained the dragon only a few days before. Ignore.

Ignore. She walked out back into the open, away from the safe refuge of the forge. It felt like no time had passed; there were still plenty of people loitering, talking, or even going about their business. All eyes were on her immediately.

A fast walk, not quite a run. Her head down, because she needed to ignore them. What must she look like?

That was an easy question, but she refused to think of the answer. This was bad enough as it was. A thousand little cuts, all from people she had worked for years in part to protect. Nobody cared about that.

They only cared that she was working with a dragon. Now that they had seen it, they cared.

* * *

When she finally reached her own hut, she didn't even bother going inside, quickly disappearing around the back. Her mother and father might be home, and she did not want to face them until she had recovered.

No dust in her eyes, just a horrible feeling in her chest, weighing her down. She could not shake it, but she could hide it if she just took a few minutes to calm down. She sat with her back to one of the less mutilated targets, feeling the unsanded wood catch and stick to her tunic, poking at her back.

She closed her eyes, just for a moment. It was not so bad; they were just talking. Words could not injure her. She was overreacting.

No, she was not. She could not call anything that came so close to breaking her control small or insignificant. Words could and did hurt right now, especially when they came from the people whose good opinion she had valued and wanted and _had _for most of her life. Especially when they echoed what she worried about in the back of her mind.

They were all wrong, but still. Hearing it did not help her remember that. She was doing this for honor, and she was still the same person, and the Chief approved, but none of that mattered.

It had to matter. Otherwise, she was just as despicable, traitorous, and weak as they were saying.

She opened her eyes, feeling a slight chill wash over her, a cold wind. Winter was coming. So was the Windy Isle tribe. There were still things that needed to be done.

But when would it be over? When would the things that needed to be done stop tearing her down? The dragon wasn't going away; she was working to keep it alive and here, under her protection. That would not change. Neither would the village's scorn.

This was never going to end.

It had to end at some point. She just couldn't see the future. She took comfort from that thought. This would not last forever.

The voices at the back of her mind that scornfully said otherwise were ignorable.

There. That was enough time to compose herself. She stood and went inside.

Her mother and father were in the middle of an argument, one that did not stop when she entered. Neither really seemed to care that she was there.

"All I am saying is that we can't go picking fights," her father remarked sharply, wiping down a battle ax, every stroke of the polishing rag a faster and harder than the last, betraying his frustration. "Ending them as soon as someone starts them, yes, but not picking them."

"A few very carefully selected examples-" her mother objected, pacing back and forth.

"Will make us look like the aggressors," he cut in. "That doesn't help. We need any shred of reputation we can get right now."

Her mother turned as if only now noticing they were not alone. "Astrid. Good work today."

That was expected, and neither of them really cared about the demonstration itself. "Thanks, but that's not the important thing," Astrid said bluntly.

"Correct," her father agreed. "What's important is figuring out why in Thor's name everyone has just spontaneously decided to disapprove."

"It's not that hard to figure out," Astrid sighed, not wanting to explain but feeling like there was no alternative. "As long as they didn't know for sure what was really going on, as long as the rumors were calling me everything from a murderer to a traitor to a coward, everyone was too unsure to form an opinion. Now, they all know for sure exactly what's going on, and they've all decided they don't like it."

Both of her parents stared at her, surprised. That she had such a reasoned, thought-through explanation ready? Maybe, or maybe that she so willingly gave it.

"Well," Asa eventually replied, "we need to get on damage control as soon as possible. This cannot be allowed to continue. If this gets bad enough, people will stop dealing with us, we'll be disrespected to our faces, and we will be given unfavorable assignments by the Elders and possibly even the Chief. Our name is going down in flames because we didn't have much to it to begin with."

Astrid understood that conclusion all too well. Her parents were immigrants, and they were the first and only Hoffersons on Berk. There was no family history to fall back on. If someone like Snotlout messed up, he couldn't do too much on his own to dent the Jorgenson name, because there was too much history there. But for her family, there was nothing but what they had now, their own reputations.

Which she was pulling down. She felt a wave of guilt. "I... I don't know if there is anything I can do."

"Ideally, you'd get rid of that dragon," her father remarked. "But I don't think that's an option, and it won't really fix the problem, just prevent it from getting worse."

"You're right, that's not a good idea." Even now, she knew that. Doing so might even make things worse if only by making her appear weak-willed, and in doing so she would lose what she had destroyed her reputation for in the first place. Whatever gain there might be from her work in the future thrown away, while all of the negative results remained.

"Spend more time in the village," her mother urged. "Take up a normal job, if you can. Something, anything that seems normal. You've become reclusive, and that certainly isn't helping."

"Mom, I have _one_ _month_," Astrid objected, straining to keep her voice respectful, and only barely succeeding in her distress. "You heard the Chief. If anything, I'm going to have to spend _more _time in the woods, not less!" She also couldn't even fathom putting up with the verbal abuse for more time than what she had already endured. Spending entire days in public right now would destroy her. But she couldn't admit that.

"Well then, we have no good solutions," Asa huffed angrily. "Your father and I can argue with everyone all day long, but it won't do much. The Chief will prevent violence, hopefully, but our name will go down. No chance at favorable deals with other families, no marriage contracts between you and anyone on this island-"

She had to cut in at that. "That last one is fine. You know I'm not-"

"If you hadn't just let the dragon maul him," her mother remarked, frowning seriously, "I'd be trying to get a contract between you and Snotlout right now. That would fix most of this. His family has status, he's going to be the next Chief, and he would have a vested interest in seeing our name restored. I wish I had already set one up, but it's too late now."

Astrid stopped breathing for a moment, utterly shocked. Her parents knew she didn't want that! _Especially_ with Snotlout! And the only thing stopping her mother from doing it anyway was the assumption that Snotlout's family would never accept it...

Which could very well be wrong. Snotlout probably still wanted her, and his family probably wanted the dragon dead. They might consider having her married to Snotlout a perfect solution. He got the girl he wanted in a way that could not get him in trouble, and they got access to the one who could lead the dragon right to them. It would make sense for them.

If her mother ever figured that out, she was doomed. And she couldn't even argue, because she had no say in it. That was just how Viking culture worked, no matter how horribly unfair it was.

She looked to her father, trying to judge what he thought of this. He had always been so understanding of her goals, only ever trying to reason with her when he disagreed on what her future should hold, which was not often.

He saw her pleading, desperate look, and shook his head slowly. "If it was doable, you might have to. This is the rest of our lives here at risk. Worst-case scenario, we're forced to leave because nobody will fight alongside us or work with us, which is a death sentence here. We have nowhere to go if that happens."

"The rest of my life," she repeated numbly. This wasn't happening. "You're right. The rest of my life, married to Snotlout. I think leaving would be the better choice."

"We have nowhere else to go," he repeated. "Berk only took us in because they need people to fight the raids, and the other islands don't have it nearly as bad, so that won't work with them."

She couldn't argue that. She had never left Berk, so she wouldn't know.

"Or," her father continued, sounding a little less stern, "you could compromise."

This sounded bad, but at the same time better than the worst-case scenario. "In what way?"

"No marriage to Snotlout, though I think that's not an option anyway," he offered.

As long as he and her mother kept thinking that, she was safe. "And?"

"Your mother and I will try our best to find you a husband from among the Windy Isle Vikings when they visit. We could use that sort of connection to move there without much trouble. And in the meantime, you try to pass over control of the dragon to someone else. Whoever you think best suited to upholding whatever responsibility your honor forces you to hold. That way, you can honorably leave it here."

"Our reputation would be more or less a clean slate on another island," her mother mused, clearly only now hearing this suggestion. "No dragon to muck it up again, nobody from Berk to bring up the past... We're just doing exactly what we did last time, aren't we Sighvat?"

Her father smiled sadly. "At that, yes."

Astrid didn't understand what they meant by that; she didn't know anything about why her parents had come to Berk in the first place. She had never needed to know, and never asked. And now, more than ever, she had enough on her plate as it was, so she didn't _want _to know.

But as for the current offer? She still in no way wanted to get married. That was a given. And she didn't know if she wanted to leave Berk... though that might very well change over the next month. Passing on the dragon to someone else...

She _really _didn't know how to feel about that idea.

Regardless, she needed to agree.

Not because she wanted to do any of it, but because all of that was undoubtedly infinitely better than being married to Snotlout, and if she said yes now her mother would not be likely to try and pursue the deal, and in the process find out it would likely work out. Saying yes was protecting herself in the short term, in exchange for sacrificing some things she wasn't sure she would value later on, along with one thing she definitely did value, her freedom. But, as she had often said, anyone was better than Snotlout.

"Deal." She approached her father and offered a hand to shake, wanting to seal this agreement as officially as possible. "Anyone but Snotlout, and it looks like 'anyone' is going to be from the Windy Isle tribe."

"We won't be talking about this plan," he cautioned as he shook her hand, not seeming at all amused by the excessive formality. "Nobody can know we plan to leave until the marriage contract is settled."

That was common sense. It would look like they were traitors, fleeing once things got hot. With the way the village was acting now, they would have an angry mob setting their hut on fire within the hour. "I'll tell whoever I try to pass on control to that it's just in case."

"Have anyone in mind?" her mother asked warily.

"I only know one person who might, possibly, be able to do it." She just hoped he would agree to try. "Tuffnut Thorston."

"An interesting choice." Now her father sounded genuinely interested, not worried so much as intrigued. The worst, in his mind, had been settled. Now they were just discussing the details. "Any particular reason?"

"I used him to teach it a few things the day before yesterday," she revealed. "He and it get along... well enough." Actually, thinking about it, she wasn't sure the dragon would be happy with that. It likely saw Tuffnut as an annoyance, given what it would remember him doing. Still, 'annoyance' was better than 'enemy' so Tuffnut was the best option.

"Strange. What determines how the dragon reacts to people?" Her father shifted, setting down the ax he had been polishing.

"I don't know," she revealed. "I still don't understand it." At that, she needed to...

Well, to get it back under control. She wasn't sure what had gone wrong, but it had stopped obeying right at the end. She needed to make sure what she had with it was stable before attempting to pass it off to Tuffnut.

And really, when would that handoff occur? Before the next demonstration, or after? Ideally before. There was no point in learning to ride it or improving their repertoire of commands if Tuffnut would be taking over. He would just have to redo all of that for himself, and she would never need it again.

She still didn't know what to think of that idea. Far from being unable to see the end a few moments ago, now she saw it, but not what it meant for her besides an end to all she already knew, good and bad. It would take time to process all of this.

"I need to go," she realized, speaking aloud. "I'll be back by nightfall. Hopefully."

"Out to the woods? I just told you to spend more time in the village," her mother complained.

"And we just established that she has even more work to do," her father quickly replied, answering for her. "I am sure once she gets it to a state in which she can hand it off to someone else, she'll be spending plenty of time in the village."

She nodded, silently agreeing, and went to her room to grab her training ax. Far too much had happened for her to be comfortable unarmed any longer, and if the dragon didn't like that then it could just deal with it.

She left the house through the back door, resolving to go around the cliffs and in doing so avoid the village entirely. It would make actually getting to the forest a short journey instead of a walk barely worth mentioning, but she would go to far greater lengths to avoid the harsh words of those roaming the village.

As she walked, she tried not to think. All of this was so sudden and mostly terrible, and she had not had time to process any of it. She just wanted to get to the forest without further-

As if summoned by her need for a lack of confrontation, Snotlout appeared as she rounded a corner, lounging in the shadow of a nearby hut, looking the other way. He had not seen her yet.

She wavered for a brief moment, and then took a step back, not taking her eyes off of him. She was not afraid of him, and that was not overconfidence speaking. He was injured and this time she had her ax. But she wanted to avoid an argument.

No such luck. He turned as if on a whim and spotted her moving out of the corner of her eye.

"So... slinking around in the alleys?" he sneered. "You know, I think I'm good with how things played out. Feel free to come crying to me anytime." He flexed his good arm. "I still have one good shoulder to cry on."

She shook her head angrily, not wanting to engage but still unable to ignore him as she should. "Keep it up, and-"

He held up his good hand. "Let me stop you right there. You might have been technically cleared of attacking me, but people are going to be a little quicker to take my side now." Said with a grin. "So, no more threats."

He was right, smug though he was. She couldn't afford to threaten him, not now that one of her previous threats had been fulfilled. Before, it was just talk, but now it could be taken seriously, and if he took any sort of case to trial, she would be in huge trouble.

"I'm not going to threaten you," she agreed sourly. "But follow me into the woods and I can't be responsible for what happens. I don't even know if I could stop it next time." Truth, really. She didn't know how much pull she had with the dragon at the moment.

"Next time, I'll kill it," he gritted dangerously, looking far less so with his large white bandages and sling. "Or my family will."

That was about what she had expected. She walked past him, continuing around the outskirts of the village.

"And now you can't do anything if I stare at you!" he remarked snidely. "So you'll be seeing me around a lot more often."

Not if she spent every waking moment in the safe isolation of the forest- but she could not, not once she had passed the dragon off. Everything was going to change, and she wasn't really seeing anything good in those changes yet. Just bad things or unclear things.

* * *

Stepping foot into the forest was a relief. One she would not get to take advantage of for much longer, even though she was only now needing it.

She made her way to the cove, guessing that the dragon would be there. It had seemed hurt or betrayed, no matter how nonsensical those emotions were, and it seemed to associate this place with the opposite.

She hoped. Her own emotions were strung out and confused, the already tumultuous feelings caused by the village's sharp turn mixing with the utter uncertainty about the future she now had to deal with. It was full of contradictions. Hurt by Berk, still not wanting to leave Berk, going to leave Berk. Not wanting to marry, not having to marry Snotlout, having to marry some other boy she didn't know from another island.

Hating her changed image, knowing she was never going to get it back to the way it had been, but also knowing she was leaving, and would be able to start fresh… but as the wife of some already established young Viking.

She would never be able to recover what she had been there. Nobody would see anything other than that Viking's wife. Even he wouldn't know who she was, or what she was capable of! The age for proving herself was past, and raids would be even less frequent there, meaning they would be more equipped to fight them off, which in turn meant less and less chance for her to prove herself.

If her husband would even let her. She would not bow to some weakling's will, but most Vikings were not weaklings, and she was not likely to get a lot of respect from some random man who had never met her before. It would be an uphill struggle with no real end, an exhausting, pointless battle she had never wanted to be stuck fighting in the first place.

This was a mess. She trudged up to the cove wearily, not really looking for the dragon anymore as the reality of what she had agreed to sunk in.

So much for freedom. So much for making a name for herself, for being someone Berkian children wanted to be when they grew up. To journeying in the name of Berk, to taking down the monstrosity at the nest. She couldn't do that anymore either. Others would kill the creature she had claimed her own to end.

The world would pass her by, leaving her with nothing. Hel, she wouldn't even get to keep what Hiccup had somehow passed on to her, whether or not she wanted it. Even the impossibly tame dragon would leave her behind, and that was what had brought her to this-

She slammed her training ax into a tree, hacking out a deep gash, recoiling only to do it again. She chopped at the sturdy spruce as fast and as hard as she could, raging at the total unfairness of it all. None of this had been her choice! She had been forced into everything, every moment since she found Hiccup's cove, whether by humans or dragons or necessity or honor. Circumstance had taken _everything _from her!

Eventually, she stopped, but not of her own accord. No, even that decision was not her own to make. Her training ax gave out, the handle breaking where it met the metal of the ax blade, the ax head sticking in the uneven gash she had chopped into the tree. She stumbled back with the broken stub of a handle, not really understanding what had happened. Her hands were bleeding a little, worn raw by the frantic, unhinged chopping. She felt nothing, the utter pain and frustration in her heart drowning that out.

She left the ax blade there. There was no point in retrieving it. The world had taken everything else from her; what was one more piece of metal?

_**Author's Note:**_** So, low point in the story, anyone? Next chapter is something a lot of you have probably been hoping or waiting for. And don't worry, things never get quite this bad again, though I cannot truly promise it is all uphill from here on out. (If anyone was wondering why up until this point the Vikings of Berk had been so chill about all of this, question answered, I hope. Also, Sighvat shared your confusion, funnily enough.)**


	16. What She Saw

Astrid had nothing. Nothing that would last, anyway. No weapon, no reputation, no future aside from the utterly boring and pointless life of a Viking woman married and stuck at home, maybe at best fighting in the odd raid, of which there would not be many, given she would be moving to a whole new island. All to escape the bad reputation that had so suddenly become a serious problem, and all because the only other solution anyone could think of was even worse.

She walked away from the tree she had just broken her training ax on, leaving the separate pieces there. What was the point? The dragon would just make her discard it anyway.

She would do what was needed. But there was nothing at the end of that struggle to look forward to. An escape from the suddenly hostile village of Berk, but to what? Not what she ever would have chosen for herself, marriage to someone she didn't even know, someone probably only marginally better than Snotlout.

Now, more than ever, she needed to push her emotions away, but that was getting harder and harder to do, and seriously damaging that tree had not helped, only making her angrier. But she managed all the same, forcing herself to pull up some final reserve of calm.

The dragon. She needed to assess its level of compliance, and if possible determine what had made it unwilling to finish the demonstration. She assumed it would be here, staring mournfully into the cove. Moping, as it tended to do sometimes.

She had no further patience for it doing that, so she had no issues with the idea of disturbing it in its mourning. She didn't get to do anything but look to the future and what was needed, so neither did it.

She stalked around the edge of the sinkhole that made up the cove, scanning the area with narrowed eyes. It would be-

There. It was not attempting to hide, sitting on its hind legs and staring.

Directly at her, not at the cove. It did not come to her, but it did not run either.

This thing put so much importance on eye contact. She glared at it, letting it know that she would not tolerate anything less than exactly what she needed from it.

It glared back, looking hurt and betrayed.

She snapped, still some twenty or so steps away from it. "Quit it! If anyone gets to feel betrayed, I do!"

It snarled at her, stalking closer. She felt no fear, still unable to keep anything but the thinnest grip on her emotions. "Yes, get over here!"

It circled her, still glaring.

She shivered, a sudden burst of wind passing the both of them, a cold chill hitting her and making its way to the dragon in turn-

The dragon inhaled, almost closing its eyes in its sudden overpowering interest in the smell carried to it. She froze, remembering the last time it had made such a big deal of smelling someone. Snotlout, and the beating that had followed, certainly unaided by what it had noticed.

But when it opened its eyes, they were wide and soft. She did not know that emotion, but it was a far cry from anything she had seen before.

It walked closer, still sniffing at the wind, as if not quite believing what it had determined. Finally, it stuck its snout right at her, bumping her in its urgency.

She shoved the spade-shaped head away, still angry. "Quit it."

It looked up at her, whining softly. She could still see hurt there, but not quite so much. What was it thinking?

She didn't know. She didn't understand it, she never had. This was stupid. At best, she'd fumble forward until she found the incredibly obtuse answer to this problem, but why bother? There would be another, and another, and she was going to have to hand it off to Tuffnut soon anyway. Let him handle this.

But if she let go of her anger, all of her other emotions would boil over. They were only held back now by the more important emotion currently in control.

She slapped it, not as hard as she could have. "You ran away! We were so close to done." Focus on this, not on everything else.

It growled at her, backing up a little.

"Scent," she shot back. "That's all that was left!"

It ignored her, staring angrily, now tense and not at all sympathetic.

Her command might as well have been a waste of breath. "Go," she tried, pointing to a place to their right.

Nothing. It growled softly, shaking its head in denial. Where was the compliance now, the one thing she had come to rely on in dealing with it? As long as she had no weapon, it was willing to do as she asked. No more, it seemed.

"Fine!" She had no idea what to do now. "Ignore me. Attack the village, get killed! It will save me some trouble. I was just trying to make sure they don't hunt you down." Speaking to it did not help it understand, but it helped her. Here, at least, was something that looked like it was listening, but wouldn't argue back. She could vent, at least.

For some reason, that got its attention in a way that nothing else had. It froze, staring questioningly at her.

What? She laughed bitterly. "Weeks, and I still don't understand you at all. Maybe he could, but I never will." And she never would get the chance, anyway.

This was pointless. "Just go away." She was done dealing with it. Soon, it wouldn't even be her problem. Tuffnut could come out here and try his luck.

Annoyingly, the dragon was walking back to her now, totally ignoring her request. "Go!" She needed to focus, to figure out what was next-

It passed her, rubbing up against her, and proceeded to trip her. She fell back, landing on it.

Correction, landing on the ground, sliding down its side to sit with her legs splayed out. Before she could move, it curled around her, its large head on her lap, though that must not have been the most comfortable spot for it given her spiked skirt was probably digging into its chin and neck. She could feel scale all around her.

"Stop it." She tried to stand, only to be held firmly down by its constricting body and weight. "Let me go."

It rumbled softly, now extending a wing over them both, blocking out her view of the rest of the world.

She was more alarmed and confused than anything for the moment. "Hey!" This was nothing like anything it had ever done before! She shoved futilely at its head.

No movement. Nothing. She was stuck here, and unless she wanted to try gouging its eyes out and likely losing a hand in response, there was nothing she could do to get it to move. Especially when it had apparently decided to ignore any and all commands.

It was staring up at her, an emotion she did not want to name first and foremost there in those deep green eyes.

She had nothing to do but wait. Wait, and think. What did she need...

Those eyes were almost hypnotic, though she did not think that was actually why she could not seem to focus. Her breathing slowed, almost involuntarily.

Some time later, still unable to go anywhere, still staring into that eye, she came to a realization. It wasn't going to let her go until something changed.

What, she had no idea, but something. She was too gods-damned _tired _of all of this to even try reasoning it out. Whatever it wanted, whatever it needed, she probably just wasn't good enough. What was one more failure?

Frustration and confusion, or bone-deep despair? Both were involved, but either of those was enough, in that moment, to finally break her resolve.

Warriors did not cry, but she was no warrior. The admission felt akin to stabbing herself with an ice-cold dagger, but that did not make it any less true. She hadn't won dragon training. She hadn't achieved her nearly lifelong goal of becoming one of Berk's dedicated warriors, and never would. The village despised her, and she would be leaving anyway. It wasn't _possible _to be any further from what had been her only goal.

So there was no reason to hold back anymore. She had nothing to lose, and there was nobody around to judge.

Water dropped onto that spade-shaped black head, tears rolling down her face unchecked.

* * *

More time passed. She was not let free, though the light that seeped through those black wings covering her was beginning to fade. She would not be let go until whatever it was waiting for happened.

But she didn't care. All the tears she had in her had been shed, and sobs had gradually entered the mix for a while before dying away, unheard by any but herself and the dragon. All that was left was... everything she had already carried. She felt no better, just a little lighter, and a lot more ashamed of herself.

The dragon, throughout her entire breakdown, had not closed its eyes, always watching. She could name that emotion now. Now that she had already lost her own struggle to hold in everything. Pity.

An animal pitied her. It was very much the cause, if not the source of her troubles, and it pitied her all the same.

But she had not yet been let free. It expected something else. What more was there?

She stared into its eye, no longer seeking an answer. No longer looking to what was next, what needed to be done. There was no next, not here where nothing changed. Nothing needed to be done, because she stood absolutely no chance of puzzling this out in order to break free. There was only now, that deep eye, and her own internal struggles.

No responsibilities, because she had no way to do anything. No real meaning to honor, because there was no choice to be made. No reputation, except for whatever the dragon thought of her, and that...

That, she could not affect, because it had seen her at her lowest point, and it did not seem to mind. What was a reputation, but a representation of how others saw her? An incomplete, inaccurate representation. This dragon had seen her deepest moment of weakness. Reputation was not a word that applied here.

No future. Not in here. Time might be passing, but if one only measured the future by events that had not yet happened finally happening, then there was no future here. Only one event, an end she had no idea how to reach, and almost no desire to reach, now.

So, what was left? What more was there? Here, nothing between her and anyone else in the world mattered. She could do nothing to change any of that.

She was not trying to reason out the answer so much as searching her own self. What more was there, without any of that? Without honor, without responsibility, without her family or tribe or people. Just herself.

Was she anything without what came from outside her? She should be. So why was it so hard to find what remained?

She lifted a still imperfect arm, looking at it in the dim light. She was here, her physical self. Weakened, but recovering. That was not gone. But what was the point?

Something else. She had skills, things she could do if the right objects were within reach, but that was no help, not in here. That was learned, not part of her.

What was left?

Who was she?

Astrid. Just Astrid, as her family name was not a part of who she was in here. Her history was a part of her, but not the history of anyone else. She could claim that or leave it as she pleased, without the consideration of honor or responsibility or duty or any of those other irrelevant things.

Astrid. The girl who fought for what she wanted, who did as she thought was right. That was not so much, in the end.

The girl who wanted freedom and respect, who wanted to be admired?

Freedom, yes. Respect would be nice, but she had been operating without that for a while now, and if she could exist without it then it was not part of who she was. The same went for admiration.

Or maybe she needed those things, and would never be happy without them?

No, she could be happy with neither, here, because she had neither, and she was not unhappy now.

Not unhappy. Her emotions were far away now, all the negative in here with her and yet distant. On hold, at a remove so she could look at it. Those were a part of her at the moment, the only impact the outside had left on her in here.

She examined them, turning each over in her mind, still staring into that eye but no longer really seeing it.

Shame. First and foremost, the most pungent of that which made up her emotions. Shame that she had failed, shame that she was failing so often and so thoroughly. Shame that she could not seem to do what others thought was right, because what others thought and what she thought never seemed to match up nowadays.

Pride. Pride that she was still alive, pride that she had the drive to succeed, the drive so many others lacked. The will to do what needed to be done.

Both of those were nothing, really. The facts were true, but how she felt about them..? They belonged outside, and she should not carry them with her here.

She let go of both at once, feeling a slight lightening in her chest as she did. Good and bad, or bad and good, both gone either way. They were not a part of her, and she should feel neither here.

What was left?

Sadness, deep and profound. She was not accepted by most of her peers. The world she had known and liked was changing. Her parents were unhappy, their names tarnished, because of what she had to do. They also did not totally understand her, to even consider forcing her into any marriage. They valued the family name more than her happiness.

That was a stark, painful thought, but she could find no argument against it. At its core, what was happening was not the end of their lives. They, she and her parents, could and would survive even leaving Berk with no refuge to flee to. They knew the world, and knew how to survive in it. Leaving would not be the end. If nothing else, they could live alone in the wild.

So the only thing her parents were really protecting was their name. She could not fault them for that; she had cared outside, had thought the same. But in here, with all that stripped away, she saw it another way. They, and she, placed that pointless abstraction above her own happiness.

They did not have her absolute best interests at heart. How could they? She had not either.

She dismissed those facts to the outside as well, no longer dwelling on them. They were true, but irrelevant. Her parents were not absolutely perfect, just like her or anyone else. She should feel no sadness caused by that.

The rest of her sadness was less simple. Not being accepted by others was not part of her. In here, their opinions held no sway. That too went outside. But the deep sadness that the world would not stay the same, that the things she liked were just as likely to morph and change as the rest?

That truly was a part of her, one she carried even here. That stayed... but while it was a part of her, it was one she could live with, as long as she figured the rest of this out.

Sadness, dealt with. She felt a true lightness in her chest at that, most of the weight gone now. What else?

Happiness? She had precious little of that at the present moment, but a few things were there.

Joy, because she was still here, not yet done with life. That was good and pure, and she set it aside, keeping it safe. If she lost that, if that was not part of her in here, then who was she? Everyone should have that.

Happiness, plain and uncomplicated, because...

Because? Why? Was that just how she would be, if nothing else bothered her, if she finished purging herself of all other outside influences?

If nothing was happening, if she had no trials or problems in life, would she be happy? Yes, it seemed, though that was only possible here, and not really even here. She left that too. Not because it was important, as it would never really come to pass, but because it did not belong outside.

That was all. Confusion and frustration had left with her problems, and she knew who she was.

Astrid. She did what she felt was right, and did not give up. All else, all the traits and quirks that made her who she was, was too complex and detailed for her to grasp, but that was there too.

Who she was could not be changed by anything outside of her own mind. As long as she knew that, she could be happy with whoever she appeared to be.

Who she was outside would change. It had been changing, though she did not like that before. That was inevitable; the small sadness that nothing lasted, good or bad, also applied to herself.

But she was who she was, down to her core, no matter how she let herself change. It was a paradox, an internal contradiction, but she understood it all the same. She did not change, no matter how she changed. All that was left was learning how to accept and guide that in herself.

She blinked, feeling as if her body had not moved in ages, long enough to grow roots. That was not true, but it was how she felt. The dragon was still staring at her, but now she saw something different. Approval.

It would move if she asked. She knew that without really knowing how she knew, a deeper understanding. She was no longer trapped here.

But did she want to leave?

No. She had finally figured out who she was, and that left her purely content. If she left, all that she had pushed away would come back, and something told her she would never truly recover this feeling again. It was something that could not be replicated, could not be recaptured.

She lingered a few moments more, ensuring she would never forget this feeling. This was a memory she needed to carry with her, something to think back to when all seemed as terrible as it had recently. If she could not go back to this, she would just have to remember it, and carry on.

Then, with a heavy sigh, she lightly pushed at the dragon's head. It immediately lifted, unpinning her legs, and withdrew its wing.

She saw, after her eyes adjusted, that it was not yet sunset. She had spent an hour or more in there. It had felt like minutes, or an eternity.

She did not get up, content to sit there, the dragon's head now by her side, still looking up. The rest of the world had come crashing down on her, but it was not so hard to hold it just a hairsbreadth apart, to keep a tiny bit of distance. She still felt content, even with all the problems and complexities of normal life there with her.

"Thank you." She spoke with feeling, totally sure it understood perfectly. Anyone would understand that.

As if in response, the dragon stood, moving away and forcing her to sit up on her own. It walked around to her front, stopping right in front of her, its head down and ears flat against its neck.

Astrid didn't have time to be worried about the less than friendly look; almost immediately, the dragon confused her even further by pressing its nose into the ground right in front of her outstretched legs, doing exactly what it had refused to do in front of the village.

"... Okay…" Astrid said slowly, somehow sure that the apparently submissive gesture was no such thing. That was just too easy. "Good-"

The moment that approval had left her throat, the dragon sprang forward, driving a paw into her chest and slamming her to the ground, snarling so loudly her ears hurt. The paw held her down, though she certainly wasn't fighting it, far too preoccupied in continuing to breathe despite the sudden pain and impact.

The deep, threatening snarl continued for a long moment, and then tapered off, replaced by heavy, angry breathing. Then the dragon back off, lifting its paw and turning away from her, pointedly putting its back to her.

Astrid sat up, glad she had not hit her head as hard as the last time this particular dragon had taken offense, and quickly got to her feet, not wanting to be quite so vulnerable anymore.

Her mind was not on danger or the sudden attack, though. The imagery, the comparison, was just too pointed. Animals might be angered by provocation in the moment, but this was something entirely different, something she would never expect from an animal. A message, meaningful and relatively complex. The almost mockingly obsequious bow beforehand was more than enough of a hint as to what was meant by the subsequent attack and anger. It felt far too much like something she would have done to be ignored.

The dragon slowly turned back to her, its ears still down and its eyes narrowed in a decidedly unfriendly fashion.

"You didn't like that, being told to bow," Astrid murmured, half addressing the dragon and half speaking aloud to help herself work through the insane yet entirely fitting conclusions she had come to. "You didn't like me telling you to do it in the first place, and I tried to trick you into doing something similar in front of everyone…"

The dragon's actions _all _made sense if she looked at them from a very specific point of view. What would _she _have done in its place? Refused to fall for the trick, left in anger, and later let her disapproval be known in no uncertain fashion, with a bit of violence added in just to make it clear that her anger was not to be taken lightly.

None of that was what any animal, no matter how intelligent, would do. But it all _was _what someone vaguely like her might have done. The missing piece, the reason this dragon was so unfathomable, was something no Viking would ever believe in the first place. Dragons were animals, or possibly demons from Hel or some other unsavory realm depending on the person asked. Definitely not people.

And yet it all made sense _only _if she considered this particular dragon to be a person. The strange reactions, high intelligence, ability to learn and compromise and _understand_ so easily, to plan and remember for later…

The dragon was still glaring at her. It didn't know if she understood now, and it had already given her so many chances to figure it out, waiting to see what she would do at every opportunity. Waiting to see if she could see the same thing Hiccup in retrospect so obviously had. Watching and tolerating her as she ignored the obvious in favor of treating it like an animal in need of controlling.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I've been bad." Bad Astrid, not bad dragon. Gods, even that felt so demeaning applied to her, and she had used it without thought. Why would it want to be around her now? She had shown her true colors.

But was that how she felt now? No, of course not.

So what was this dragon to her now? Not a pet, not a trained animal...

A person, different but not lesser. One who mourned... a friend. That was what Hiccup had been. It mourned a friend.

He. Hiccup had referred to it as a he, and she had not seen anything to disprove that, though she had not been looking. Not it, he. The first step towards correcting her perception, starting with her own mind.

Did she really want to change in this way? To treat a dragon as a person? It would be a change.

But she understood now that change was inevitable. What mattered was how, not if, she changed. This was a good change, one that felt right to her.

"I want to start over." No more demeaning commands. They would work out some alternative method for communicating intent. There had to be a way, because she still needed to put up the facade that until now had been truth, to protect it-, no, to protect _him_. But this way would be one between equals, partners. "I've been treating you like a dog. Not who you are."

He looked up at her, his eyes widening and softening as he moved, a hostile expression morphing into something else entirely in a matter of moments. He nodded, slowly and deliberately, and came closer, walking on silent paws until he was close enough to touch, holding eye contact all the while.

Of course he liked eye contact. What better way for a creature who could not speak her language to convey how it felt, and to see what she felt? And what had she used that for?

She was the equivalent of a Viking yelling at the top of its lungs and only listening when it suited her. No longer.

"I'm Astrid. It's nice to meet you..." she trailed off, stymied.

Should she give him a name? No, she was done thinking herself above him. That had gotten her and him nothing but frustration and heartbreak. But calling him 'dragon' was equally bad, implying a distance she no longer wanted.

What had Hiccup called him? She struggled to remember.

Toothless.

Hiccup had called him Toothless. And as the two had been far closer than she and the dragon were now, it was safe to assume he liked that name.

"Toothless?"

He perked up immediately, a happy warble escaping him.

"Can I call you that? I know Hiccup did." She was now unsure how much he understood of her words, so she defaulted to asking like she would if she knew he could understand perfectly. There was _some _level of comprehension, so it could not hurt.

He tilted his head, before purring and nudging her agreeably.

So that was settled. 'It' was now 'he' and 'dragon' was now 'Toothless.' In private, anyway. She would figure out if she wanted the rest of the village to know of this attitude shift later.

That was, if there would be a later. She had just agreed to hand him off to Tuffnut. But...

She smiled broadly, seeing with fresh eyes what she had promised. To _try _to hand him off to Tuffnut.

"Who would you rather work with, me or Tuffnut?" she asked seriously.

He tilted his head again, chirping inquisitively.

She had to hold in a laugh. That was a new sound to her. Really, the way he acted now was subtly different in a lot of ways, but that one stood out. "You know, the one singing." Guessing that he would need more of a reminder than that, she started humming the discordant tune Tuffnut had used to torment-

A small blue bolt of fire blasted into a nearby bush, setting it aflame. Toothless pounced on it, smothering the flame, and then returned, leaving a crushed and scorched bush behind. He glared at her.

"So that's a no on Tuffnut." There, she could truthfully claim she had tried in some capacity. The rest of her future wasn't going to be so easy to circumvent, but that was for later. Right now, she wanted to make things right with this one person. He deserved it the most, for helping her in her darkest hour.

"But you're okay with working with me? I just want to keep you safe," she explained, kneeling down so that they were on equal footing. "I won't order you around, but we have to work together, so I will ask you to do things."

He seemed uncertain about that, backing up a bit.

"Please? This can go both ways. I'll help however you need." To obvious limits, of course.

That settled him down again. He still didn't indicate what he thought, once again staring into her eyes.

She put a hand out, not quite touching him, and not looking away. "Give me a chance?" She had taken his obedience for granted before, so now she would wait for an actual answer on a more fair partnership. If he turned her down... well, they would deal with that if it came to that.

Deep green eyes searched her heart, or whatever they could see in her own blue eyes. She hoped they saw a willingness to make things right, along with a desire to understand, a desire to maybe try and at least rival Hiccup someday. Friends. She wanted to be friends, if not quite as close as he and Hiccup had been, for that might not be possible. There would be no way for her to know, so she didn't care. Hiccup had first claim, and always would, but he was gone. She wanted to get to know the one he had left behind, and maybe in the process to understand him a little better too.

Never breaking eye contact, Toothless pushed his snout into her hand, a heavy, solemn gesture.

Friends.

There was no flash of light or noise, no outward sign that something had happened, but she knew it had nonetheless. There was a truly relaxed feeling in the air as Toothless pulled back and walked off into the forest, out of sight for a moment. She did not wonder where he was going-

Then the faint sound of water hitting a plant informed her where he had gone, and why. Okay, it was a good thing she hadn't followed. To be fair, he hadn't had a chance to relieve himself for the last few hours, and had probably not bothered beforehand.

Still, something about that sound totally broke the seriousness of the moment. She laughed lightly as she waited for him to come back. She did not have to go home quite yet.

Really, looking up at the sky, it was not even as close to dusk as she had assumed. By her calculations, she had about two hours before would be late. Subtract an hour to get home from here, and she had another hour to spare.

And she did want to use that hour here, with Toothless. She was not quite confident enough to trust her newfound self-assurance to guard her from the derision she would have to bear in the village. It would still hurt, if not hit quite so close to home.

Really, not much had changed. She just had the all-important reassurance that only she could really change who she was, and the memory of that moment of simple peace to fall back on if needed.

Not to mention the not-insignificant fact that she was friends with a dragon. That was total anathema to all her people stood for, but she didn't care. It wasn't against what she stood for. Who she was had never needed anyone else, friend or foe, to exist, so she could categorize and treat either as she wished. If she decided this dragon was a friend, she was not betraying anything that mattered.

Sure, her honor still mattered a little. She would uphold it if possible. But for the first time, she could see a world in which she chose to do something others would declaim as dishonorable. As long as she saw it as the morally right thing to do, she wouldn't care. Her reputation was even less important now. It was not who she was.

She smiled as the dragon returned from his outhouse- or was it outforest- break. "Way to ruin the mood, Toothless."

He snorted and rolled his eyes, walking right up to her and licking her across the face.

She had not been expecting that, and recoiled, shocked. "Hey!" Since when..?

Since when, indeed. Why was he acting different now? Because they were friends, not... however he had seen her before. Apparently, that made a world of difference. She should probably forget the depressed, pliable persona he had embodied these last few weeks. If what she had seen in the brief time with Hiccup was who this dragon truly was, she should expect a lot more free will.

Like now. Toothless got behind her and began pushing at the back of her knees, urging her forward in a way that almost knocked her flat on her face.

"I get the message," she laughed, still feeling lighthearted, and let him take the lead, voluntarily following him deeper into the woods.

Where they were going became clear quite soon. His den, of course. Why was less clear. The more interesting thing, at least to her, was the path they took to get there.

It was roundabout, switching back almost at random, but the one thing that kept her so interested was how _easy _it was. All the paths she had been so proud of forging were still difficult, they were just less difficult than the alternatives. This one put her best paths to shame, leading them to Toothless's side of the island in less than half the hour it should have taken. She would be able to get home before dark if she could remember that path and follow it on the way back.

But... "Why are we here? I do have to go home." She did not intend to sleep here, no matter how friendly he was now. Bare stone or damp ground was no replacement for a real bed. "And I have to go soon."

He nodded impatiently, stalking across the now quite old and brown layer of branches covering his clearing, walking to-

To the ax Gobber had made for her, still hanging from that same tree, looking no worse for wear.

He stood on his hind legs and carefully grabbed the handle, unlodging it from the crook she had hung it on, and bringing it back to her.

Offering it to her. He wanted her to take it. He trusted her to have it, now.

Did she want it? It was a change.

But she had just decided change was fine, if it was the right kind of change. This ax was thinner, longer, and a little more deadly in certain ways, but decidedly not normal. Was she okay with that?

"Yes, I think I will," she announced, and carefully took the ax from Toothless's open mouth. Its weight was not familiar, oddly balanced, but she was pretty sure she could get used to it if she tried. Now she wanted to try, and that was all that really mattered.

_**Author's Note:**_** Originally, this chapter was titled 'What He Saw,' in reference to Hiccup, and, you know, the whole thing so many stories love to make a big deal out of, the 'I saw myself' line. But as I wrote it, the title started to feel wrong. This is Astrid's moment, not Hiccup's. I figured that was worth mentioning.**

**And what a troublesome moment it was, too. I came back to this chapter and tried to rewrite it, to spread the musing out over actions and time, but it just **_**would not work**_** no matter how many different ways I tried. Without this highly introspective moment, there's absolutely no good way to reach the same sort of epiphany without it feeling ridiculously forced. It seems to be an inherent issue in the plotting and pacing of the story. Oh well; I didn't dislike this way, I just thought it might be a bit much. We shall see how it is received. Special thanks to **_**Deadly-Bagel,**_** who looked this over for me, even though I'm trying not to have this story beta-read as practice for myself. Sometimes there's no alternative to another set of eyes.**

**As for the chapter itself... I've only rarely gotten that philosophical before. Don't expect any more this story; I'm all tapped out. And I'm glad it's Astrid's inner struggles I had to dive into here; someone like Snotlout or Hiccup, people with complex pre-existing issues, would have been way harder. I created all of Astrid's problems here, which makes it easier to take them apart, and she didn't really have any problems from canon for me to add to the mix and muddy the waters with.**

**(And for those of you who are **_**still **_**probably craving some proper Astrid and Toothless interactions, don't worry, we're finally in a place where they can happen now, and I'm not going to stiff you on that after so long getting there.)**


	17. Broken Ice

_**Author's Note: **_**This chapter wasn't **_**supposed **_**to be hard to get out on time, given it was already written, but when I looked it over on Saturday, I realized it needed to be revamped… And I had absolutely no time to do that until the following Wednesday (thanks, college exams). Sorry for the delay! **

**Also, on an unrelated note, I totally forgot to mention this until now. The profile picture for this story is from a very specific moment in Race to the Edge. Can anyone guess what moment that is? (It's related to something that happened early on in this story, so I think it's possible for someone to guess with the right logical leap).**

"So, wha' brings you by bright and early?" Gobber asked, looking up from whatever he was doing to the coals under the forge. His face was already streaked with soot, even though it wasn't yet dawn.

"Bright?" Astrid asked, walking around to get a better view. "It's still dark out."

"Don' _ye _start pickin' at me word choice too," Gobber exclaimed, standing and abandoning the as of yet unlit coals. "I get enough o' that with Fishlegs."

"Sorry, Gobber." Astrid had no desire to annoy the smith, not when he was one of the few people who didn't seem to disapprove of her now.

"Don' worry 'bout it," Gobber replied amiably. "I take it yer not here to chat, anyway."

"Can you look this over?" Astrid asked, holding up her recently reclaimed ax. "It was out in the open for a while, and I don't know what that might have done to it." There were a few spots of mold on the handle, which was what had prompted her to decide that a trip to Gobber was necessary; she knew plenty about keeping weapons in good order, but it was better to get an expert's opinion when it came to damage that might have already been done.

"Right!" Gobber took the ax from her with his good hand and immediately began running the tip of his hook down the handle. "Where'd ya leave it?"

"Does it matter?" She didn't want to admit that it had been hanging from a tree in the middle of the woods.

"Nah, but I'm curious. I half thought you'd thrown it away and not bothered finding it again," Gobber admitted, still staring at the handle and the tip of his hook, which was now digging into one of the small patches of mold Astrid had noticed earlier. "And this proves ye didn' leave it in yer hut, I think."

The back door to the forge swung open, hitting the wall with a loud thud, and Fishlegs stumbled through, almost tripping over a fallen wooden stave. "Whoah!"

"That's what ye get for not cleanin' up like I told ya," Gobber called out, not even looking over at Fishlegs.

"I am one hundred percent sure that wasn't there when I left last night," Fishlegs asserted irritably, picking up the errant piece of wood and returning it to a pile of similar staves in the corner.

"Aye, it wasn't," Gobber agreed amiably. "But ye left some dirty rags on yer bench, and I felt like teachin' ya a lesson. Anythin' left lyin' around in here can be dangerous."

"Especially when its left lying around _on purpose!_" Fishlegs objected. He hadn't even noticed Astrid yet, he was so worked up. "What if I had fallen into a pile of spears?"

"Come on, give me _some _credit. I moved those out o' the way first. I don' wanna to lose another apprentice."

An awkward silence descended with those words. Gobber shook his head sadly and went back to looking over Astrid's ax, and Fishlegs busied himself doing something with the parchment neatly stacked on a table near the back of the smithy.

Astrid, for her part, stood there awkwardly, lacking anything to do but wait. In the past she might have dropped the weapon off and come back for it later, but that just didn't seem like a good idea after all that had happened. She wasn't a popular person in the village right now, and if push came to shove she couldn't be unarmed. Better to avoid conflict right now, but if she couldn't manage that she had to be able to win.

The same reasoning was behind why she had come so early, and in the process slipped out of the hut before either of her parents got up. After her belated set of epiphanies the day before, she wasn't sure how to handle them, and until she had a plan for that, avoiding them was best for everyone.

"Astrid," Fishlegs ventured, waving an apron at her. "What are you doing here so early?"

"Getting my ax looked at," Astrid replied. "What about you?"

"We always start early," Fishlegs explained, pulling the apron over his head, his voice muffled but not inaudible. "And there's even more to do now that we're getting another tribe visiting soon."

"Aye, we got repairs to make, every weapon in the village to sharpen, fancy spears to make for 'em as hospitality gifts," Gobber added, sounding annoyed. "Every little thing that could'a waited a few months has gotta be done yesterday."

"Stoick didn't tell us about the visit any sooner than you," Fishlegs continued. "Gobber's not happy about that."

"Aye, ye can bet yer helmet I'm not happy!" Gobber yelled, moving behind the bulk of the forge, Astrid's ax still in his good hand. "I'm an Elder! We're supposed to know when our Chief decides to reach out to a tribe we've not spoken to in a decade!"

"Wait, how did he do it secretly?" Astrid asked. That seemed odd, especially for Stoick, who was not a secretive man.

"Bjorn Cravidson," Fishlegs said knowingly. "He just got back a week ago. Nobody noticed he had been gone, so nobody knows how long he was away. It had to have been him. The trip to their island is-"

"A whole bloody month!" Gobber yelled from behind the forge. "Tha's a month we coulda been using to get everythin' done with time ta spare!"

"Stoick said he sent a messenger back when… Well, you know," Fishlegs said. "He wouldn't tell anyone why, though."

"How do you know all of this?" Astrid asked. "You're not in on his meetings with the Elders, are you?" She wouldn't have expected Fishlegs to eavesdrop, either, but that left no easy explanation for how he seemed to know at least as much as-

"Gobber," Fishlegs said simply, pointing at the man in question, who had just emerged from behind the forge with a small knife prosthetic in the place of his usual hook. "Never let Gobber in on anything that will make him mad if you want it kept a secret. He's been ranting ever since."

"For good reason!" Gobber stomped over to Astrid and set her ax down on the shelf beside her. "It's not damaged. Jus' a spot o' mold on the handle, nothin' serious. Try not ta let it happen again."

"I won't," Astrid promised. "Thanks for looking it over. I didn't know you were busy."

"Eh, blame Stoick. I do." Gobber shrugged his shoulders. "Yer busy too. We'll let ya know when the stuff ya need is done, but it'll be a while."

"As long as you do finish it," Astrid said thankfully. "I'll need it."

"Aye, to impress our visitors. Don' worry, I got some ideas 'bout how to do that," Gobber said with a grin.

"I just need a saddle and tailfin like in his notes," Astrid objected, not liking the mischievous glint in Gobber's eyes. "Nothing more."

"Eh, get goin'," Gobber said, gesturing with his prosthetic. "We've got this."

"Plain," Astrid said, reluctantly heading for the exit. "Discrete. No accessories." They barely had time to make it in the first place; Gobber had better not delay anything to add pointless decoration.

The only response she got was the discordant clang of metal on metal as Gobber hefted a stack of irregular iron scraps.

* * *

Astrid walked through the village, navigating by the light of the few lit torches and the stars above. She moved slowly, following the curved paths that in turn followed the lay of the land. She fully intended to go spend the day interacting with the dragon-

No, he had a name, and it was Toothless. She had decided to call him that, and she would stick to that decision.

Whatever his name, she wanted to spend time with him, because they had to work together and she was only now after months of interacting him approaching their interactions with the correct mindset. But she couldn't go out into the forest yet; it was dark out and navigating Berk's wilderness was difficult _with _light to see by.

So, she wandered, letting her feet take her where they would, following the paths that were most thoroughly lit. It was almost dawn, and while many Berkians would be up, only those with an actual reason to venture out before dawn would be about, and everyone in that category had better things to do than linger. The paths of Berk were empty and quiet.

That would not last forever. Soon, people would begin going about their day, people who would linger, people who would scorn and insult her, just like yesterday.

Unlike yesterday, that wouldn't bother her so much. She would still vastly prefer approval over disapproval, but she didn't care quite so much anymore. Their words could no longer strike at her own worries, because she had resolved those.

But testing that security seemed like a bad idea, so once the sun began to rise she made her way to the edge of the village, crossing the fields and slipping into the woods without running into or overhearing anyone.

She sighed in relief once she was securely within the forbidden borders of Berk's wilderness, and then abruptly frowned. If she wasn't worried on some level, she wouldn't be relieved to be away, but she shouldn't care anymore.

Then again, deciding to do something was one thing, and acting on that decision quite another. She would have to work at not caring, which made perfect sense. Since when had anything ever come easily?

Astrid slowly made her way through the rougher part of Berk, alone aside from the wind and her own thoughts, which were more than sufficient to keep her occupied, if the difficulties of navigating the forest weren't enough on their own.

Then a branch cracked nearby, and she froze, her left arm extended to grab a handy branch, her right hand hovering over the hilt of her new ax. The forest around her had seemed totally empty only moments ago, and from everything she knew of Toothless, he would have either announced his presence more obviously, or never let her know he was around at all.

She turned her head slowly and steadily, moving as little as possible, and scoured the greenery around her for signs of someone else. The last time she had been surprised in these woods, Snotlout had caught her totally unaware. She would not be so easily snuck up on again.

A cold burst of wind rustled through the forest around her, moving her shortened hair and slapping lighter branches against each other, a flood of noise and small movement obscuring anything that might be around.

She took that moment as an opportunity, moving quickly and suddenly, forging her way forward as quietly as possible, crouching low to the ground. She had no idea whether or not there _was _anyone around, but it hurt nobody to be overly cautious. At worst, she looked like a fool when there was nobody around to see, and she was supposed to stop caring so much about what people thought of her anyway. At best, she would…

At best, she decided, beginning to move in an arc around where she had been, circling low to the ground, keeping an eye on all directions as she went, she was going to sneak up on and surprise whoever was around. She was not great at stealth, but most Vikings were not very observant either, so it wasn't totally unthinkable that she might manage to get behind whoever could be watching.

That would, however, require her to know where they were, which she did not. The wind had died down, returning the forest to its normal mostly-still state, but that didn't help when there seemed to be nothing around to see.

She had heard a branch breaking; that was all she had to go on. That, and the feeling that she might not be alone.

"This is stupid," Astrid admitted to herself, standing upright and looking around one last time. Nobody was there, or they were too well hidden for her to find, or they had been warned off by her brandishing her ax. She wasn't back to her peak physical shape, but she was getting there, and that made her a threat some people might think twice before attacking.

Some people. Who did she think was going to be breaking the Chief's direct orders now, after Snotlout's example? The only person who came to mind was Snotlout himself, and she didn't think he was brave enough to try anything in the forest after the entirely one-sided beating Toothless had given him.

She hefted her ax, tossing it up into the air, slowly and carefully, judging its weight. It didn't fall like she expected, rotating differently, and she had to let it hit the ground in front of her rather than catch it.

That needed work. Her new ax had a different weight and center of balance, and she couldn't trust herself to fight as well as she should be capable of until she adjusted to it.

But that was what today was going to be for, wasn't it? Adjusting, getting used to the new parts of her life. This ax and Toothless.

Astrid continued onward, feeling content. For once, the things that needed to be done didn't bother her at all. How long had it been since she felt good about herself? Not since Hiccup began outperforming her in dragon training, so months. First there had been that, and then the struggle to survive, and then the difficulty of rebuilding herself and working with what she had mistakenly thought of as a recalcitrant animal, and then of course the breakdown all of that stress had eventually caused.

But now she was done trying to take back what was gone, and not having to strive to reclaim something was incredibly freeing. She didn't feel like she was playing catch-up now.

* * *

Toothless wasn't around the cove, so Astrid kept going, crossing the island in order to reach his cave. By the time she arrived, sighting the ominous dark opening in rock surrounded by a seemingly insignificant web of dry, old branches littering the ground, she was dreading the walk back. If he wasn't there, if he had gone to the cove or anywhere else on the island, she had just walked a long way for nothing.

"Hello?" Astrid called out, knowing that her voice would be recognized. "Toothless?"

Toothless's green eyes gleamed in the darkness of the cave, reflecting the bright day outside far better than his black scales. Said eyes were wide and cheery, with round black pupils, which did much to dispel the otherwise ominous look, if one knew what emotion that signified.

Then much more than his eyes became visible; he quickly ran out of the cave, stopping just short of her, his paws _somehow _avoiding the dry branches underfoot, making almost no noise. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he stared at her expectantly.

"I'm not going to just forget yesterday," Astrid ventured, keeping her voice soft and polite. "I know it took long enough to get through to me, but you don't have to do it more than once. I remember." That, she liked to think, had always been one of her good qualities. She almost never needed to be told something twice. Once a decision was made or a lesson learned, there was no relapsing to be had.

He clearly got the message, warbling happily and crossing the remaining distance between them, nudging her enthusiastically.

Astrid took a step back, more to avoid falling over than out of actual unease with him. She definitely wasn't used to anything remotely cheerful from him, but it wasn't an unwelcome change, now that she was in the right mindset to appreciate it and not just see it as a sign that he would obey.

"Good to see you too," she said, patting his forehead, though the gesture felt vaguely condescending. She didn't have anything better; a friendly punch to the shoulder would definitely be taken the wrong way.

It seemed to work, though. He rumbled happily and backed off, shaking his wings out for a moment before folding them back in.

"So…" Astrid said, walking out into the small clearing in front of his cave, accompanied by a cacophony of snapping branches from underfoot.

Toothless favored her with an annoyed grimace, looking at her boots.

"You need to replace them anyway," Astrid asserted, looking down at the dry, old branches. "It's too obvious when _every _stick on the ground is perfectly dry and ready to snap at the slightest pressure." Talking to him and explaining her thoughts like she was doing might be pointless, given she didn't know how much he was actually getting, but she could do no less. Speaking to him like an animal just wouldn't work, not when she was actively trying to remember that there was a person of some sort behind the decidedly inhuman exterior she could see.

Toothless grumbled loudly and snorted, visibly dismissing the issue. Then he reared on his hind legs and put his front paws on a tree, his claws gripping the thick bark, and leaped up into the canopy above.

Astrid watched in fascination as the lithe dragon leaped from trunk to trunk, keeping low to the ground and thus within sight, moving with no apparent purpose aside from jumping out into the air as often as possible, sometimes flaring his wings though that seemed pointless and dangerous. It looked as if he was trying to fly-

He _was _trying to fly, or rather trying to capture the feeling. Like so many of his oddities, once she saw the true reason it made perfect sense, no matter how strange it was.

"I hope that's good enough," Astrid murmured, thinking of how long it had been since Toothless was able to actually fly. He was clearly a creature of the sky; it would take a brain-dead moron to not see the longing in his otherwise nonsensical actions.

But when Toothless leaped back down to the ground, he seemed content, quickly walking out of sight. Astrid knew better than to follow without him making it clear she could. She had probably woken him up; dragons and humans were not so different that she could not guess he might be seeking out a good place to relieve himself.

Left without anything to watch or do, Astrid defaulted to what she knew best, training. She took up her ax and aimed at the nearest tree, intending to strike it at where head height would be on the average Viking. It was a simple, easy target, only a dozen paces from where she stood. She should be able to hit exactly where she was aiming. But the center of balance was different…

She threw it anyway, feeling the difference in the weight and the way it left her hand, and noting that it struck higher than intended, lodging itself in the tree a hand's length above where she had meant to hit.

That was… acceptable, actually. It would only take a small adjustment to her aim to compensate for that, and she had nothing but time at the moment.

Nothing but time… She retrieved her ax and returned to her spot, contemplating both her next throw and those words. So many deadlines, but plenty of time. Not really, certainly not when it came to Toothless, given she was not getting back even the small amount of control the village had seen. But she still felt, in spite of all reason, that the many deadlines bearing down on her were light and insubstantial. Either she would meet them or she would not, and either way, life would go on.

She wasn't even sure she _wanted _to do some of the things that were supposed to be done. She certainly did not want to leave Berk, not if she had a choice in the matter. Demonstrating that Toothless was under her control was as undesirable as it would be untrue. Passing control to Tuffnut was similarly both not doable and not desirable.

But in every case, people aside from her wanted those things to happen. It would be easier, less troublesome, to go along with them, to appease them. But she couldn't do that.

Astrid realized that she had not yet thrown, and rectified that by heaving her ax forward once more, trying to feel the new balance as she threw. This one veered off, let loose at the wrong time, and buried itself in the underbrush to the left side of the tree, but that was fine. She was just feeling for the balance, not actually trying to be perfect.

There was a very deliberate rustling in the undergrowth, and Toothless's head popped out from behind a tree. He looked in her direction warily, as if wondering what the noise of metal on wood had been, and whether she had been responsible for it.

Astrid pointed at her ax, acting without thought. "Bring," she called out.

Toothless favored her with a very deliberate, unamused look, and walked over to her ax. He took the handle in his mouth, hefting it, and proceeded to stare at her.

It was only then, in the face of his obstinate defiance, that she remembered that she could not longer expect obedience. Her face flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry," she called out guiltily. "I forgot." Especially humiliating was that she had forgotten only moments after assuring him that she wouldn't. It wasn't even a habit; there was no way only a few hours of teaching and commanding him had formed any habits. She just hadn't _thought_.

Toothless tossed his head, not letting go of the ax, and huffed. He seemed to understand and wasn't all that angry with her.

That was good, but it brought to mind another conundrum. "You know," Astrid remarked conversationally, "we're going to have to work something out. The village will need to see _something _eventually." She didn't think anything less than apparent obedience would be safe. What she now understood, that Toothless was a person, was not something any Viking would be able to understand. It just didn't fit with how they say the world.

"Bring?" Astrid asked hopefully, trying to make the request sound like exactly that, a request that could be heeded or ignored as he pleased.

Toothless tilted his head, staring at her as he considered that. After a long moment he walked over, stopping right in front of her.

"Thank you," Astrid said emphatically, reaching out and taking the small bit of handle between his gums and the blades, and pulling.

Pulling in vain, because he wasn't letting go. His lips curled back in a taunting mockery of a smile as she put more and more strength behind her pull, putting both arms into it.

"Please?" Astrid ventured, realizing that her still recovering arms were never going to match a Night Fury's jaw strength.

That worked; he let go so suddenly she almost fell backward, and would have had she not been half expecting such a trick. "Nice try," she taunted, waving the ax at him.

Lacking anything else to do, she decided to throw it again. Toothless seemed interested in that, or possibly just in her ax. His eyes followed it as she tossed it from hand to hand, and everything about him suggested that he wasn't watching out of fear.

It hit Astrid, in that moment, just how vulnerable he really was. She was armed, and his neck was within reach. Sure, he might be able to leap away before she could strike, but nobody would ever be comfortable in such a position unless they were sure they would not be struck at to begin with.

She threw her ax, not feeling entirely comfortable with her own thoughts on the matter, and watched with a measure of satisfaction as it hit much closer to her original target, embedding itself only a hair too low to count as an accurate throw.

Toothless's head slowly swiveled from the ax in the tree, to Astrid, his eyes wide and mischievous.

Astrid knew that look, though not on a draconic face. It was not quite the look she was used too from the Thorstons, not as malicious or chaotic, but close enough as to be both recognizable and incredibly telling.

"No," Astrid said, knowing it was futile. She shifted on the balls of her feet, feeling the soles of her boots, and tried to subtly prepare for the very short sprint she needed to make. "That's a weapon, not a toy. Get a stick or something."

Toothless bolted, turning tail to her and leaping across the distance between them and the tree in three large bounds. He had the ax out of the tree before she had taken four steps, and shook it, rumbling loudly at her.

Astrid, for her part, couldn't help but crack a smile at his expression. The day before yesterday she would have been furious, but today? Today, she really didn't mind, even if this promised to be an extremely dangerous game of keep away.

"You're on," she promised, taking large, menacing steps toward him. He shied back dramatically, rearing on his hind legs and waving the elongated blades of the ax dramatically, as if to either ward her off or encourage her.

Regardless of which way he meant it, she took it as encouragement and leaped at him, jumping into the air to hopefully snag the bit of handle that was safe to grab. He hopped back, just out of her reach, and warbled in laughter as she hit the ground and stumbled forward.

Then he turned his tail on her, bopped her forehead with the end of his sole fin, and broke into the slowest run she had ever seen from him, something so slow she would have no trouble following. The frequent glances backward on his part implied that was what he wanted.

Astrid wasn't giving up, certainly not before she had even started. She broke into a dead sprint, hoping to catch him unaware. The two of them made their way into the forest, slowing only when necessary, which given the density of Berk's foliage, was almost always.

Astrid slapped her empty, open hand at his taunting tail as he paused to let her catch up, doing her best not to burst out laughing when he waggled the ax at her as encouragement. She knew she would look absolutely ridiculous if there was anyone around to see, and she probably should have felt humiliated by how patronizing Toothless was being, but neither of those things really mattered to her anymore. The former was irrelevant, and the latter was, if anything, penance for how condescending she had been to him all these weeks. It was payback, and she was still Viking enough to appreciate revenge.

Besides, chasing him was a great workout. She had skipped her morning run and weight training, but this was almost as good, and far more entertaining.

Toothless abruptly stopped running, skidding to a halt just shy of a small ridge. Astrid took that as her chance and leaped forward once more, forcing her aching legs to muster one last reserve of strength in an attempt to reach his head and wrest the ax from his jaws before he decided which way to turn.

Toothless actually _was _caught off guard by her jump, but that was the only part of her hastily-devised plan that worked out. She fell far short of his head, impacting his side and almost immediately falling off, and in the fall she cut her arm on a sharp branch.

Astrid pushed herself back up again immediately, but the disorienting flow of blood from her arm was more than enough reason to give up the chase. It was not some small cut; she was already dizzy, and a stream of blood was running from the crook of her elbow.

"Bad luck," she announced, stemming the flow of blood with her other hand, clamping down on the cut and ignoring the stinging pain. After all she had gone through, this really wasn't that bad, even if it was potentially dangerous if left unchecked.

Toothless's now empty muzzle prodded her arm, and he crooned sadly. His tongue flicked out toward the cut and her now bloody hand, and he looked at her questioningly.

"No, definitely not," Astrid said firmly, scooting away from him. She didn't care what he meant to do or whether he was a person; letting someone lick her wound was just viscerally uncomfortable to think about. She would bear it if necessary, but right now he wasn't pressing the matter.

Toothless watched closely as Astrid tore a strip off of her tunic and tied a rough bandage around her elbow. His eye was almost touching her elbow by the end of the procedure, and he seemed utterly fascinated by what she had done.

"There," Astrid announced, rubbing her hand against the closest tree to rid it of the rusty brown dried blood that covered it. "That'll hold for now." As long as she didn't try to use the arm, she would be fine. Luckily, it was her bad arm, so she was used to not using it.

It would be reckless to continue training or otherwise pushing herself until she could get her arm properly seen to, though. She knew that she _should _head home.

Actually getting home, on the other hand, was looking to be exactly what she shouldn't be doing. There was no way to passively navigate the forest in any efficient fashion; it was going to take forever to get back with one arm out of commission and forcing her to take things slowly.

"Nothing to do but get started," Astrid decided. She stood and retrieved her ax from where Toothless had dropped it, setting it to hang loosely from her waist, and located the sun through the canopy.

Toothless didn't seem to understand that she was done for the day; he bounced in place alongside her, eyeing the ax she had strapped to her waist as if contemplating how to retrieve it for their next chase.

Astrid decided to nip that idea in the bud before it resulted in her losing her weapon again and being forced to call Toothless back and ruin his fun. "I'm done," she said firmly, pointing to the blood-stained bandage with her free hand. "I have to go back. I'll come tomorrow, okay?" She certainly didn't intend to let this stop her any more than was prudent; the moment she could be sure she wouldn't bleed out at the slightest provocation, she would consider herself back in action.

Toothless whined, eyeing her arm regretfully. His ears drooped sadly.

"No, it's not your fault," Astrid said. "Besides, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it." For once, she was kind of hoping the sentiment was all Toothless got out of that; a Night Fury taking that particular statement literally would be way more than she could handle.

Toothless surprised her by snorting loudly and rolling his eyes, seemingly amused.

"If you understand every word I'm saying, tap your paw five times," Astrid requested hopefully. She was convinced he was a person, but a person who understood everything she said perfectly would be far simpler to work with.

Aside from a long stare, she got nothing in response.

"Worth a try," she asserted. "See you tomorrow." It would be a long, tiring walk back, but at least she had that to look forward to.

Toothless stuck his head under her good arm. She tried to move away, and he moved with her, supporting any weight she put on him.

It only took Astrid a moment to get what he meant by his odd actions. "Thanks," she said gratefully. She didn't _need _his help, and with most people she would have taken it being offered as an insult, but this felt different. Friendlier, lacking in undertone. He saw weakness, and he propped her up with no questions asked, no favors called in, no favors required in return.

"I think I'm really going to like having a friend," she said happily.

_**Author's Note: **_**This story might actually go past the original 30 chapters it had in the first draft; In rewriting this particular chapter, I expanded its part of the plot a little bit. Luckily, I have **_**plenty **_**of time to make such expansions and revisions. Expect next chapter next Monday as per normal; there will be no more large delays.**

** Also, in case anyone is wondering, the motivations and timeline of Stoick sending a message to the other tribe and all of that is intentionally vague; it's not important, but there is a little bit more to be learned about that specific plot point.**


	18. Becoming Familiar

"Astrid," Tuffnut greeted politely, flicking the spine out of a fish with practiced ease. "What brings you down to the fishier part of Berk?"

"Same thing as you," Astrid replied, upturning an empty bucket and sitting down on it. "Working here for the day, or as a real occupation?" She had not anticipated meeting Tuffnut here, and her curiosity was piqued.

"I've been avoiding the salmon," Tuffnut offered, pointing to one of the barrels in particular. "Help me out and focus on those."

"You didn't answer the question," Astrid observed, pulling a salmon from the top of the barrel and sticking her knife into it. She didn't have to pay any attention to the actual process of preparing the fish, having long since committed the common task to muscle memory, so she could focus on Tuffnut, who seemed to be at least as efficient in his own fish-gutting skills.

"On and off," he said in reply. "It doesn't pay well, but nothing really does, and it's miserable enough that Ruffnut wouldn't be caught dead doing it, even if she's bored."

"Seems reasonable," Astrid agreed.

Tuffnut smiled slyly. "I like the new Astrid. I don't have to worry about being lectured for laziness."

"I would never have lectured you for not wanting to gut fish for a living," Astrid said firmly, sure that even her past self would not have been so obnoxious and demanding. The only time she ever lectured anyone, it had been Hiccup, about taking dragon training seriously.

Though that looked absolutely terrible in retrospect, so maybe Tuffnut had reason to suspect she might have been as bad about a different topic…

In any case, she was not going to do so _now, _so the point was moot. "I'm here because I want some spare fish," she revealed. "Think they'll let me take whichever I like?"

"Just steal some and then refuse payment for the day's work," Tuffnut advised. "You get all the good reputation of working for free, the fish you want, the knowledge that you've not actually done anything all that wrong, and that _amazing _glow only felt by pulling the wool over someone's eyes and having them thank you for it." He sighed nostalgically.

"I think I'll just ask." And if the answer was no, which was possible if the Viking in charge didn't like her… "And I'll have _you _hold onto the fish I pick out. Just in case."

Tuffnut practically beamed with approval, saluting her with a fishbone. "A cunning plan."

"Not my only one recently," Astrid murmured to herself, recalling how she had decided to handle Tuffnut's involvement in Toothless's immediate future. "Do me a favor and say no to the next thing I ask. Seriously, just say no. I can explain why afterward."

"Okay. Hit me."

"Would you be willing to take over handling the dragon?" Astrid asked, hoping that Tuffnut wouldn't try and go off-script.

"No."

Astrid nodded. "There. I can say I asked, and I can say you refused."

"But really, the answer is actually no," Tuffnut said seriously. "Maybe if I hadn't just made that particular dragon wantto rip my guts out and use them as earplugs, but probably not even then. I don't get what you do with it, not really, and that seems like a fast end to my life no matter how I look at it."

"Fine by me," Astrid agreed. "I was only obligated to try. Nobody said how hard I had to try." She could count that part of the agreement with her parents fulfilled, in word if not in spirit. That distinction didn't bother her anymore; it was somewhat dishonorable to play technicalities and twist the intent of an agreement, but she no longer cared.

"Who made you promise to try and get me killed?" Tuffnut asked curiously. "Was it Ruffnut? I would consider that progress, given she can't go back to normal if I'm dead."

"No, it wasn't Ruffnut. And I'd make sure it wasn't a deathtrap if I actually wanted you to take over," Astrid argued, miffed that he didn't think she could manage that much. "I just don't _want _to let you take over. It's my responsibility." And her duty, and her friend, and the best part of her life at the moment. But she didn't say any of that; Tuffnut didn't need to know, even if he probably would keep it all quiet for her.

"How's that going, anyway?" Tuffnut asked casually. "Clearly not well if I'm considered a viable replacement."

"Two steps back, and then three steps forward." She shrugged her shoulders, choosing her words carefully. "I think I'm past a few issues I didn't know were in the way before. It should be fine."

"It had better be. I hear the Windy Isle tribe is hard to impress." He waved his knife in the air for emphasis. "Fishlegs says they can belch loud enough to kill a man at close range."

"I think he was talking about Thunderdrums, not Vikings." She recalled that description from the Book of Dragons, and there were no Vikings in that.

"Eh, close enough. I zoned out when he started talking about books." Tuffnut grimaced and stabbed the fish currently on top in his barrel, piercing its tail and lifting it up like a fresh kill. "He seems to think not pranking means… _scholarly_." He shuddered dramatically.

"Clearly not," Astrid observed, trying to picture the scene and coming up with a fairly hilarious mental image. "What, did he corner you in the Great Hall and start offering to loan you books?"

"Of every kind," Tuffnut confirmed. "Books about Viking heritage, books about trade routes, books about old Viking hand signals, books about dragon myths… I asked if he had any books about how to kill annoying people, just to shut him up, and he asked whether I was interested in poison or dueling!"

"Did he have anything on those?" She wouldn't mind a book about dueling. Books were good when they had practical knowledge.

"Ask him. I'm no scholar." Tuffnut twirled a fish around on the end of his knife, sending slime slinging everywhere. "Even this is better than that."

"Maybe I will. Later." She had too much to do and figure out at the moment to go digging into what sorts of knowledge Fishlegs was hoarding in the form of stained parchment. "And save that fish for me. It looks like a good one."

Tuffnut stopped twirling the fish long enough to examine it. "What makes this one good?"

"You've already gotten all the slime off of it," Astrid said bluntly.

"Does the dragon like them slimeless?"

"Who said it was for the dragon?" Astrid retorted.

"Come on, who else would it be for? Got a sudden craving for raw Cod that the Great Hall won't satisfy?"

"Okay, so maybe it's for the dragon," Astrid backtracked, not wanting to let Tuffnut get started with the jokes at her expense that he was so clearly trying to think up, his eyes crossed and the fish dangling from his knife, slowly sliding down as the blade cut through it.

"Honey and the hatchet?" he asked curiously. "Does that work? And does it require an actual hatchet?"

"Just a gift." She was going to have to apologize for lying to Toothless next time she saw him, because she had told him she would be back the next day. Thanks to her mother insisting she spend the day in the village and asking for her to be at the Great Hall at noon, she had no choice but to break that promise. The fish was going to be a part of her apology.

"Sure. Pull the other one."

"No, seriously." She wasn't sure why she wanted him to understand, given it would be easier to let him believe what he thought now, but she did. "I figured out what I was doing wrong, what I was thinking that made everything so hard. It's not a reward, or an incentive, or anything like that. It's just going to be a gift."

"So that's the key to a dragon's heart?" Tuffnut asked rhetorically. "Gifts and soft words and kindness, I suppose, because if there's anything no Viking has ever thought to try, it's that."

"Respect and equal treatment and understanding," Astrid shot back. "You're right, no Viking would think to try those." She was pretty sure somebody had to have been desperate enough to try simple bribery at some point in the last few decades; it just wouldn't have worked. Nobody had ever figured out how to tame dragons because those few who might have tried would by extension have gone at it from the wrong perspective, just like her.

"I'll remember that," Tuffnut threatened. "If you ever get too high and mighty, I'll hunt down a worthy dragon and respect it into submission!" He stood, brandishing the knife in one hand and a whole Cod in the other, striking a heroic pose. "Tuffnut Thorston, Respect-Giver Extraordinaire, rising to defeat the evil Astrid the…"

"The…" Astrid prompted.

Tuffnut shrugged helplessly. "There aren't any good alliterative words for you."

"Sure there are. Astrid the Ambitious. Astrid the Audacious." Neither of those sounded entirely positive, which she figured fit nicely given in this scenario Berk was giving her the name, and they didn't have a good opinion of her. They'd respect her boldness, but little else. Maybe 'Astrid the Addlebrained' if they were particularly spiteful at the time of giving her a title. She wasn't creative, but she had come up with all of those, so Tuffnut shouldn't be having a problem.

"Yes, but those are generic," Tuffnut complained. "I could sling those titles at any big bad Viking and they'd stick. I want something unique!"

"Gut fish while you think," Astrid suggested, tossing one at him. "It's just a hypothetical, anyway."

"If Berk keeps giving you grief about all of this, maybe it won't be," Tuffnut said slyly. "It'd be fun, hunting you down. Our battle would be legendary!"

"I'm loyal to Berk," she replied firmly. Even with her new mentality, she was loyal. Berk would have to spurn her for that to change, and so nothing so far had come close to that. The Chief approved of her, and the village followed suit in action if not word or opinion.

"Even more interesting. The loyal dragon tamer and the dark dragon of peace, driven from Berk by raging mobs led by… Mildew! Yes, old Mildew, leader of the rebellion against Loki-spawned dragons and riders." Tuffnut stabbed a fish with his knife and began waving it up and down, making it seem that the fish was walking on its tail. Its dead eyes stared at Astrid.

"Is the fish me or Mildew?" Astrid asked, amused in spite of herself.

"Either way works. I think Mildew, given it's stinky and liable to go rotten if left in the sun," Tuffnut quipped. "Come on, get your own fish and join in!"

"I'm not Ruffnut."

Astrid winced the moment she heard what she had said; she might not have cared in the past, but these days people who didn't mind her were rare, and she didn't want to drive Tuffnut away.

"No, you're not." He waved the fish half-heartedly. "I didn't think you were. It's just that you seem so much less uptight than normal."

"This is my new normal," she explained, feeling that she owed him an explanation in recompense for her thoughtless comment. "Or at least closer to it. I don't know. I'm just-"

"Doing what feels right, playing it by ear, abandoning the old facade you held for so long," Tuffnut cut in. "Sounds familiar."

"I guess it would." Now that she thought about it, that _was _exactly what Tuffnut had said he was doing, back when she had asked. "I guess we're both figuring out who we want to be."

That got her a small smile from Tuffnut, who had given up playing with his work in favor of gutting it like he was supposed to. After a long moment, Astrid smiled back. It was good to have someone who understood at least a little of what she was going through, _and _could talk back.

* * *

"Sorry!" Astrid yelled, waving the fish. "Look, it wasn't my fault!" She could have told her mother that she had other obligations, but with the mood Asa had been in, that would have resulted in being told to stay in the village _and _a lecture. Given that ignoring her mother's orders would almost certainly rebound to inconvenience her and Toothless even more, she really hadn't had a choice.

It was possible Toothless might understand that, and it was also possible he'd understand the fish she brought as an apology, but both of those required him to be around to be persuaded. He might not even be mad; maybe he just wasn't close enough to his den to hear her.

Astrid thought otherwise, which was why she was waving the fish wildly and yelling her apologies at the trees around her. She had the unshakable feeling that she was being watched, and around here the only one who would be doing that was Toothless. He had proven himself invisible in the forest when he wanted to be, so not being able to see any signs of his presence meant absolutely nothing.

"Come on, do you really want to watch me wait around all day?" Astrid called out. "At least be mad at me to my face!" She actually _didn't _want a Night Fury mad at her to her face, or at all, but she was pretty sure it would be a petty, mild anger, and that she could handle. This taunting absence felt equal parts playful and malicious, unless she totally missed her guess. They both knew she hadn't done anything worse than not showing up for a day when she said she would.

"This fish will get old and gross if you don't show yourself," she tried, sitting down on a fallen log just within sight of the mouth of his cave. "I'll let it get old and dry and rotten, and when I leave tonight I might just take it with me to throw away," she threatened, before very elaborately opening the neck of her satchel and sliding one of the fish back in, hoping her theatrics would get some sort of response.

Nothing. The fish disappeared into the satchel without a peep from the forest around her, though she was still positive Toothless was watching. He either didn't understand the implications, or thought she was bluffing.

He was about to learn that Astrid Hofferson very rarely bluffed. Even more rarely than she wasted food. Astrid stood and made her way to the nearby cliff, standing at the edge and staring at the tree line behind her.

"Last chance," she said firmly, holding the satchel out at arm's length. "Show yourself and accept my apology, or watch as the fish get it." She held the satchel out over the cliff, dangling them above the long drop and deep water below. The irony of threatening to throw dead fish back into the ocean was not lost on her, but she kept a straight face.

And sure enough, Toothless came running out of the forest, sliding to a stop well short of her and snorting at her as if he had _not _just scrambled to reach her in time to save the food.

"Oh, there you are," she said cheerfully. "Sorry for not being able to come yesterday."

Toothless snorted again, looked away from her as if bored, and then flicked his ears in the direction of the satchel, feigning nonchalance.

"Yes, they're for you," Astrid agreed, slowly bringing the bag in from over the brink and reaching in with her other hand. "Want one?" She found playing along with his little pretense of casualness more entertaining than calling him on it.

He crooned hopefully and leaned forward, his mouth open and very much _not _in any way toothless.

She tossed the fish into his mouth, thinking it wise to stay away from his sharp teeth. It was gone almost instantly, swallowed whole.

"Looks like those are either for intimidation or fighting, not eating," she observed, tossing him another. "No chewing with those." Maybe she would tell Fishlegs that; it seemed like the kind of thing he would want to know, and didn't hold any practical value that could be used against Toothless later, so it was safe to share.

Toothless warbled in response, eyeing the satchel greedily.

"Sure," Astrid decided, emptying the satchel on the ground between them. "Take the rest." She had eaten more than usual earlier that morning, so as to not have to bring her lunch in a bag that also contained day-old raw fish. The only thing she had brought besides her ax was her apology.

Once the remaining fish had disappeared down Toothless's gullet, Astrid felt comfortable moving away from the edge of the cliff and wandering off into the forest. Toothless followed her, as she expected he would.

She tossed the satchel back to him the first time he nosed around her waist, looking for more. "This had all I brought," she said firmly. "So, if you're still hungry, you can go hunt something yourself." A firm hand was necessary in dealing with Vikings looking to share her food, and she had no issue turning that same attitude on a dragon doing the same. Though, usually the only one who actually tried that was Snotlout, so maybe she was being too harsh on Toothless…

Toothless flung the satchel right back at her, catching her by surprise, and walked ahead, now leading the way. He led with far more purpose and direction than Astrid had, though his path still meandered enough that she didn't think he had a destination in mind. She caught up after shoving the satchel through a loop in her skirt's waistband, opposite her ax.

The forest was quiet. Aside from the noise of her boots crushing small plants underfoot, the wind was all that could be heard.

Something snapped in the near distance, close enough to be heard but far enough to not be seen snapping.

Just like yesterday. This time, Astrid was positive there was someone around. Toothless freezing and staring in the direction of the sound was a good indication that there was more to it than some newly developed sense of paranoia on her part.

"Don't make any sudden moves," Astrid hissed, trying desperately to think through the situation before anything else happened. If there was a Viking out here, he or she was disobeying the Chief, meaning he or she didn't feel inclined to do what the Chief said, meaning nothing was stopping them from attacking Toothless or even her.

By extension, she reasoned as Toothless looked over at her dubiously, they might be armed with dragon-killing weapons, things with range. Throwing spears or bola or even a bow and arrows, as rare as that was. This was deadly serious.

Which made Toothless snorting and tossing his head in annoyance all the more important. He began creeping toward the source of the sound, a particularly thick cluster of branches and pine needles, something large enough to hide a crouching Viking.

"No!" Astrid hissed. "At least let me go first!" She tried to catch up to him, but being as silent as possible trumped speed, as it seemed the Viking hadn't noticed them yet, strange as that was. She was reduced to whispering at him. "Stop! Wait!"

Toothless looked back at her with a pointed glare, his ears slanting angrily.

"Right," Astrid hissed. "_Please _stop," she requested, hoping her frustration with him wanting courtesy _now _didn't show through in her voice.

No such luck; he shook his head and glared all the more insistently, pointedly taking another step forward. He didn't seem to care that this could be life or death, or that she was the one far more suited to handling it. All he cared about was her being polite and not ordering him around!

"Oh, come on," she hissed. "Fine." If he wouldn't listen, then she would just have to go with another plan.

She darted forward, taking out her ax and passing him in seconds, making far too much noise to be at all stealthy, and leaped over the bush, falling and rolling and springing up to level her ax at-

A loud, porcine squeal of absolute terror rang in her ears as a wild boar thundered off into the forest, fleeing both her and Toothless, who pounced only moments too late to catch it where it had stood rooting around in the ground behind the screen of pine needles and branches.

Toothless cast her a truly disgruntled look, his ears back against his head, and started off in the direction the boar had fled, walking slowly with his nose close to the ground.

Astrid trailed after him, her face burning with humiliation. It wasn't exactly her fault she had totally misinterpreted the situation… But it definitely felt that way. She hadn't even thought about the possibility that there were other creatures capable of breaking twigs in the forest. In all likelihood, the noise that had made her so cautious yesterday was just more of the same.

Yes, she had screwed the hunt up for him, but it wasn't over yet. He was trailing the boar, slowly and steadily to avoid alerting it by accident, the way she had. The least she could do was follow along and not interfere again.

As she walked, she thought about something else, more to distract herself than anything. Her thoughts kept circling around to the same issue.

They really needed to come up with a reliable way of communicating, one that didn't have the undertones of broken trust and suspicion that he rightly felt with her trying to give orders. If this incident was any indication, he wouldn't listen to her unless she made it very clear she was asking politely, and she just couldn't _do _that when they were in tense situations, even if she wanted to be polite. It just wasn't going to happen.

Her fault, again. If she had not corrupted and misused the commands, maybe he would happily listen…

No, probably not. They _were _commands, one-way communication. She had meant them to be, and there was no changing that. She needed to come at the problem from a totally different angle, to make something new and better. Reusing the old clearly wasn't working.

She squashed the almost reflexive thought the moment it appeared. She _could _do this, even if it was something far more suited to someone like Fishlegs or Hiccup. She could come up with an answer, it just might take her a lot of thought where it would be easy for them. Despairing before she had even started was stupid.

Besides, this wasn't like being asked to build something from scratch. She just had to think of a way to communicate that didn't come with any of the debilitating flaws politely commanding Toothless did. All she needed was to think about it.

Astrid continued to follow Toothless through the woods, but her mind wasn't on hunting.

* * *

"I _am _sorry," Astrid said vehemently, holding out a hand to the Night Fury in front of her. "I thought it was something else."

Toothless licked her hand and crooned happily. He certainly didn't seem to care anymore, though they had never caught up to the boar. He was probably going to go back to hunting it, but he had led her off the trail and to the forest's edge, just in time for sunset, so he knew that he would be hunting alone.

"This time either tomorrow or the next day," Astrid promised, knowing better than to just promise tomorrow again. Her mother might be of the mind to make her alternate between the village and the forest, and she wasn't going to defy her outright.

Toothless rubbed his face along her arm, rumbling contently, and leaped up into the trees, disappearing from sight in an instant.

"Yeah, that boar is dead," Astrid said to herself, turning and leaving the forest. Now that she thought about it, he had probably been holding back in trailing it so that she could keep up. There was no way even a flightless Night Fury would normally take all day to track down an overgrown pig on a small island.

As she made her way across the fields toward Berk, she went over what she had painstakingly decided on while trailing Toothless all day.

They needed to communicate, and they needed to do it in a way that was _inherently _polite, so that she could use it in stressful situations. Ideally, it would be something Toothless could somehow reciprocate, to avoid it feeling one-sided. And it needed to be ambiguous when seen from the outside, something that was _not _obviously polite or going both ways, just in case. She wanted to be able to choose whether people who saw them together understood the truth.

Astrid smiled to herself as she passed between two huts and into the village proper, despite the scowls and rude comments her very presence drew out from Vikings all around. She stared proudly ahead and didn't hear them, simply because she was basking in her own success.

It had taken her a while to conclude that it couldn't be a spoken way of communicating, but she _had _eventually realized that important fact. Once she had that, it all fell into place. She had heard about the solution only the day before, after all. It was fresh in her mind.

Then she realized that she was already at her hut and put all of that from her mind. The answer had been determined, and she couldn't do any more work on the problem until she had it in her hands.

"Just in time, we're having stew," Sighvat called out. "Your mom's at the Great Hall, helping Bucket and the others serve dinner."

"Really?" Astrid opened the door to her room and tossed her ax onto her bed and dropped the satchel on the floor before closing the door. She would put them away properly once she had eaten.

"She felt it would help our image," Sighvat sighed. "And she wanted me to talk to you, which is why we're eating here tonight."

"About what?" Astrid didn't like the sinking feeling in her stomach; the prospect of talking to her father shouldn't fill her with dread, _especially _now that being told that a husband had been selected for her was off the table, if not for reasons she would have preferred.

"The future," Sighvat said simply, setting two bowls of stew on the table and sitting down across from her. "How are things going with the dragon?"

"I'm making progress in some ways," Astrid said carefully, picking up a rough wooden spoon but not using it. She didn't want to eat until this was settled, no matter how hungry she was. The rolling unease in her stomach would only go away once this talk was over, and until then she feared she wouldn't be able to keep anything down.

"And in others?" Sighvat asked neutrally. He hadn't started eating either.

"It's difficult. I think I'll be ready for when our visitors get here, but it will be close." If her father asked, she was talking about the prospect of flying with Toothless, given the new tailfin wouldn't be finished for a while yet, but she also meant the difficulty of totally scrapping the commands she had taught Toothless and starting over with something else entirely.

"What's the status of handing over control to Tuffnut?"

"It's not happening," Astrid admitted. "Both he and the dragon refused to even consider it." She was glad she could say that without lying.

"Who is next in line?" her father asked curiously.

"Nobody. Tuffnut is the only one who _might _have been able to do it." She could have given a list of candidates, but she knew how her parents worked. She would have had to go through and get denials from everyone on any list she put together, and then things would be right back where they started.

"And…" he said promptingly. "What is the solution?"

"Simple. I take it with me when I go." She was improvising now, but it was easy enough. She just had to think about the worst-case scenario and then try to make it as bearable as possible. Making it sound reasonable was another matter. "But I don't make that obvious. I pretend I'm going to leave it, our ship sails away for the last time, and then I fly it out to the ship. I can just hide in the woods while you and mom leave."

"The point of this was to leave the dragon behind and start over," Sighvat objected. "How does this do that?"

"I guess it doesn't, but I can't leave it with a clear conscience, so it has to come with me." Hopefully, that would be enough to convince him. If she couldn't honorably abandon the dragon, what other recourse was there but to bring it?

"Yes, you can," Sighvat said sternly. "As your father, I'm ordering you to leave it here when we go."

Astrid flinched. She honestly hadn't thought he would do that; he usually avoided outright telling her to do anything. It was a sign of respect, an unspoken promise to consider her opinions even if he didn't _have _to.

But now he had, and there was only one answer she could give. "Understood."

Only one answer he would accept, anyway. Only one he could hear. But she was _not _going to abandon Toothless here, and she wasn't going to be parted from him. She still intended to find some way to stay on Berk, which would be a solution, but if things fell out badly enough…

Astrid couldn't look her father in the eyes, but thankfully he took her silence as acceptance, not brooding. Why wouldn't he? She had never defied him before.

She also hadn't been able to comprehend breaking her word once given, either. Now?

If there was any other way to get what she wanted, she wouldn't do it, and she could see plenty of ways to sidestep the future he and her mother had set out for her, plenty of ways to get them to rethink things, or to otherwise thwart them without direct defiance. Uncertain ways, possibilities, chances that might not come to pass, but ways nonetheless. She hadn't decided to break her word and defy them. But she _had _decided it was an option, a last resort. That was enough to calm her nerves and let her eat. It was all in the future, anyway.

* * *

"_You _want to borrow a _book_?" Fishlegs asked incredulously. He looked like he was about to faint and fall down the steps leading up to the Ingerman household. Or maybe he was just tired; she _had _waited until after he got off work with Gobber.

"Yes," Astrid responded simply, not feeling like explaining. Fishlegs didn't need to know. "I heard from Tuffnut that you had one on old Viking hand signals?"

"Well, yeah, but nobody even knows them anymore," Fishlegs explained. "We tend to prefer yelling orders, and it's not like we do sneak attacks. So…"

"I still want to borrow it," she replied. "Can you get it for me now?"

"Sure!" Fishlegs shut the door right in her face in his haste, leaving her alone on the doorstep.

Astrid ignored the insult; she really couldn't care less, and it was obviously not an intentional slight. Or if it was, he was way more subtle than she ever gave him credit for.

A loud series of thumps resounded from behind the closed door, and then a familiar yelp. The door shuddered under one large impact, and then the house fell silent.

A few moments later, the door swung open. Fishlegs' face was redder than before, and there was a pile of books on the wooden floor behind him, but he had an old, leather-bound tome in his hands.

"Return it whenever, and try not to read it while eating," Fishlegs requested. "I learned the hard way on that one."

"I'll take good care of it." She took the book from him and quickly flipped through it. There were runes, illustrations of hands doing various gestures, and a lot of stains on certain pages. "But it's already stained."

"I know," Fishlegs said guiltily. "Just don't add to it, okay?"

"I won't." She certainly didn't plan on eating while looking at it. If Fishlegs knew more, he would be more worried about Night Fury drool.

* * *

"No drooling," Astrid warned, letting Toothless sniff the book and then setting it on a nearby rock. "It's not for eating."

Toothless grunted and sat down across from her, his eyes wide and curious. He seemed to be waiting to see what she was going to do.

She flipped the book open, quickly locating the right page, though she had already committed the gesture she wanted to explain to memory. It was a simple one, and one with a simple meaning. A meaning Toothless already knew, which was the most important part.

"Come," Astrid requested softly, holding out her hand and pulling two fingers inward with a deliberate, exaggerated motion.

Toothless obligingly walked over, apparently satisfied with her tone. He eyed her hand curiously.

"Come," she repeated, again doing the gesture she had gotten from the book. It was a simple one, and honestly one she could have come up with herself, but simple was best.

This time, Toothless definitely knew that she was trying to tell him something besides the obvious request. He stopped right in front of her hand, his eyes fixed on it.

"You get it," she said softly. "It means the same thing." More specifically, she wanted him to understand that it meant _exactly _how she had said the command, not just the meaning. If this worked, the gestures she planned to introduce would all be automatically considerate and polite.

Of course, that could be used to abuse his trust _again_; it would only work if she didn't misuse it to order him around. The difference this time was that she had the right intentions. She wouldn't misuse these, if he understood-

Toothless abruptly warbled happily, backed a few steps away, and held up one of his front paws, extending it out toward her.

Astrid was shocked to see two claws extend and painstakingly bend downward and then inward. She hadn't know his claws _could _bend, though in retrospect it only made sense, as Toothless had grabbed her arm with his paws in the volcano. She could see little joints midway down their lengths now that she was looking for them, but it really didn't matter.

What was even more shocking was the gesture itself, though, not how he had done it. She knew too much to assume he was just mindlessly imitating her.

She rose and walked toward him, heeding the request. What else could she do? She had wanted two-way communication, and had anticipated him responding as he normally did, with looks and sounds and movement. But if he could just do the same thing she did, wasn't that all the better? It wasn't language, they wouldn't be talking to each other, but it was a step above inferring and guessing his meaning in the moment.

"One down," she declared, stopping in front of him and smiling broadly. The shock had faded as quickly as it had arrived; she really shouldn't have been surprised. If he could learn and memorize a verbal command in moments, why wouldn't he be able to understand a gesture he _could _perform himself? It made perfect sense as long as she kept in mind that he was no mere animal.

Toothless rumbled happily and stepped around her, quickly approaching the book and pointedly staring at it. He looked up at her with eager eyes and barked loudly.

"Definitely," Astrid agreed. "We're not stopping at one." The deadline that had previously seemed tight now looked to be lax, at least when it came to this aspect of preparing. They would be more than ready to put on a show for Berk and the Windy Isle tribe when the time came, if the speed at which Toothless learned was any indication.

And it would be a show. Everyone expected to see control, but that wasn't what this was. This was communication, plain and simple, equal because they were both equally capable of making their intentions clear.

Astrid crouched by the book, looked up at Toothless, and began flipping through it, looking for another good signal for them both to learn, smiling all the while. She couldn't wait to see what they could do once they could work together more easily.

_**Author's Note: **_**Just as a bit of clarification; this isn't going to evolve into true talking in the sense of complete, complex conversations, or even simple ones. It's basically the same idea as the commands Astrid used earlier, only working both ways, and with gestures instead of words (because Toothless can't exactly speak). I've done plenty of stories in which the dragons in some way talk, with dialogue and such, and this story just doesn't accommodate that, being far more grounded. So regardless of how intelligent Toothless may or may not be, there will never be a point where he 'says' something as such. Not much is really going to change aside from him and Astrid streamlining the guesswork and carefully worded requests they've been working with up until this point.**

**Basically, I guess what I'm trying to say is that this isn't a big plot point, though it very well could be if I wanted to take the story that way. It's hard to tell whether I've adequately conveyed that through the story itself, especially here, where we leave off before seeing the results of the new development.**


	19. Preparing for Visitors

The wind whistled through the trees, icy and biting at Astrid's ears. She had changed over to her heavy tunic and coat, foregoing her usually armored skirt for another layer of insulation, but it was still freezing out. For Berk, this was just the first hints of Winter. The Windy Isle tribe had better hurry up; the ocean itself would freeze sometime in the next two months. They were cutting it close.

Though, if they were forced to stay here until the ice broke, that would give her another five months to figure things out. Maybe she didn't want them to hurry up. It would certainly give her more time to figure out how to deal with the plan to find her a husband among that tribe's eligible men, probably one around her age, but nonetheless forcing her to marry and subsequently move away. She didn't want that for a number of reasons.

How was she going to stop that from happening, when she had already agreed to it? She had no idea. It felt like something she would have to work out on the fly... which she hated doing.

No matter. She could not affect that entire situation here, now, so she would not worry about it. There were more pressing matters at the moment anyway.

She slipped through the woods, doing her best to move quietly, though she could not compare to the wraith above her at that. They were putting into practice their repertoire of gestures, expanded over the last few weeks, now at the point where she could barely remember them all. Really, she could no longer call the majority of them hand gestures, either. Toothless's only somewhat articulate paws had forced quite a bit of innovation.

She did not look up, knowing she would not see him. This part of the exercise was hers. He knew to follow and watch for his part. Once they found their quarry, he would take over. She was not so prideful as to think she could best a Night Fury when it came to catching the boar if it were to sense their presence and flee, and unlike in the past, they both needed this kill and didn't have that much time to make it.

At the moment, she had a faint trail to follow. That she had asked Toothless to point her in the right direction was only a slight damper on her faint pride in not losing the boar in question. Tracking was not one of her strengths, and this was not an easy trail to follow, though it was easier than any of the alternatives.

Really, boar were the only good target on Berk, it seemed. This was the third time she and Toothless had played this particular game as practice, and every time, their target was of porcine nature. She had seen no signs of other large animals, be they bears or deer or anything else. It was almost disappointing, how desolate of large animals Berk was.

But they would work with what they had. She heard a faint, guttural grunting carried on the cold wind, and pulled out her ax, liking how it no longer caught the weak sunlight, just barely dulled by ash to prevent reflections. She could return it to its normal, clean state at home tonight, and at the moment the ash was serving its purpose.

Then she called down what was, to put it bluntly, overkill. Toothless dropped out of the trees in front of her, nodding significantly, and flashing a gesture she knew well, his whole paw tapping the ground and then his other paw. He was requesting to take the lead.

She nodded and fell in behind him. He had also become adept at signaling with his back paws and tail, which was both useful and hilarious to watch, so she would see any of his signals without being able to see the front of him.

They moved closer, ignoring the almost constant cold wind, though it ruffled his frills and her short hair. She was beginning to think it was going to take years for her hair to return to normal; it still wasn't even long enough to put into a proper braid, and she was having to get used to letting it hang loose, blown every which way by the faintest breeze. That was one change she still did not like and intended to revert as soon as possible. Her hair was supposed to be long and braided.

Toothless stopped, signaling for her to be still. He leaned forward, nostrils twitching, and then gestured for her to circle around to the right, and to sneak.

She did so, losing track of him in the process. That was fine; they were both hunting the same target. She would see him again shortly.

Now it was a question of which of them got to the boar first, and who got the kill. He had taken the honors in both of their prior hunts. She wanted to break that streak.

So, she moved quickly, striving to be quiet all the while, which was very difficult. She did not particularly enjoy sneaking around.

Then she stepped through a large bush, crouching on the other side. The boar was close enough that she could hear it grunting. She could not move any closer without being heard in turn.

She slowly turned her head, looking around. Where was it?

There, at the base of a tree, eating something. She couldn't see what. It might be mushrooms, or moss, or even some unlucky bird or small woodland creature. Boar ate whatever they could find, meat or plant. It was part of what made them dangerous. That, and they usually traveled in packs. There weren't any packs left on Berk, though, so that particular danger no longer applied, which made the hunt far easier.

She hefted her ax, slowly winding back for a throw. To move slow was to give Toothless time to strike, wherever he was, but to move fast would be to alert the boar, which would see the movement and bolt, or possibly charge her.

She knew the distance, and her target was large, as well as still at the moment. But it would bolt as she threw, so she aimed a bit ahead of its snout, hoping it would run forward.

Then she threw. Her ax spun through the air on its slightly elliptical orbit, startling the boar-

And sinking into its neck, arresting its departure with a wet thud. The boar squealed, the sound tapering off as it flopped over, knocked on its side by the impact, kicking its legs.

An instant later, a tiny bolt of blue fire hit it in the head, and it moved no more.

Astrid walked out of the bush, making no attempt to hide her presence, and retrieved her ax, wiping it clean on a nearby plant with thick leaves. "My kill, even if you did finish it off. It was going to die anyway."

Toothless emerged from the shadows to her right, gurgling in a way she recognized as mocking. He stared pointedly at the dead boar, specifically at the blown apart head area.

"Like I said," she repeated, pointing her ax at the massive gash a little further down the body. "I killed it. You just put it out of its misery."

He huffed dramatically, rolling his eyes, and picked the boar up with his mouth, letting the body drip blood from what used to be the head.

"Actually, can I have this one?" she asked. To be sure she was clear, she gave the signal for give, shrugging to indicate it was a request. That had been an important sign, as there had to be a difference between implying 'I need you to do this' and 'do you think you could do this?'

Toothless nodded agreeably, not putting it down. He knew very well that he would be far less inconvenienced in carrying it out to the edge of the forest.

They began the long trek back to said edge.

"I need it to show Stoick," Astrid said in way of explanation as they walked. "He wanted to see proof of progress. I figure a boar hunted by dragon and ax is good enough for that. Better than having him come out here and watch us."

Toothless growled at that idea, shaking the dead carcass violently.

"Come on, he's not that bad," she remarked, a little confused. Why would Toothless not like Stoick, of all people?

Oh, wait. He had spent plenty of time with Hiccup. She didn't think Hiccup would have bad-mouthed his father, but Toothless heard and understood quite a bit, so it was entirely likely he picked up on how Hiccup was not his father's idea of an ideal Viking... and Toothless's loyalties were with Hiccup, not Stoick, so it was no surprise which side he must have picked. That was the only explanation for why the dragon recognized the name of a Viking Chieftain.

Anyway... she hadn't wanted Stoick to come out and observe for other reasons. What she and Toothless did now, their entire dynamic, could be mistaken for control, but only if one squinted, and if the both of them were trying to make it look like that. It was very likely Stoick would have seen through to the far more relaxed and equal relationship between them, and she wasn't sure how he would take that. Best he saw whatever he might see along with the rest of the audience when she and Toothless demonstrated for the Windy Isle tribe soon.

Very soon. They should be showing up sometime next week, by Stoick's estimation. The village was beginning to prepare for visitors. Many of the more important families were having to ready themselves to take in one or more visitors for the duration, because Berk had no extra huts available.

That, she reflected happily, would be one of the few indirect benefits of having a terrible reputation. Her family might have been expected to take in somebody if things were as they had been in times past, but they would never be picked to do so now. Her home would be as private as ever.

She and Toothless made good time, following the paths he seemed able to find without any effort whatsoever, the easiest possible way through the forest. He left her at the edge of the forest with the boar carcass and a lick, which was actually pretty disgusting given what he had been carrying in his mouth for the last half-hour. She would need to wash her face.

She hoisted the carcass over her shoulder, glad her training had mostly rebuilt her muscles to where they had been before, though it would be a few more months until she was totally back up to her previous standards. It also helped that part of the boar was missing.

She ended up dropping the body off in the shack used by the now out of work hunters, knowing that whichever one of them kept up the shack would be fine with cleaning and preparing it for her. Anything to at least look like he or she was still earning their keep, though there might be nervous inquiries as to where it came from, if she wasn't even now on her way to tell the Chief what she had just brought in.

Of course, to tell him, she first had to find him. Preparations for visitors also meant a sort of out-of-season Spring cleaning, with the idea of everything being brought back to normal levels of filthiness. They didn't want everything clean, they just wanted it clean enough to be tolerable. That was the Viking way.

She found Stoick in the plaza near the center of the village, directing things and breaking up arguments before they could devolve into brawls. Some small amount of cleaning was necessary, but nobody was happy about doing it.

"Chief, a word," she requested, ignoring the dirty looks her presence elicited. She was used to it now. It was not good, but it could be ignored.

"Ah, Astrid." Stoick looked her over. "So, about that proof..."

"No need for a demonstration," she answered calmly. "Proof is hanging in the hunting shack by the edge of the village. I think getting the dragon to help me hunt is pretty good progress, all in all, and not something you would have really been able to watch, anyway."

"It kills for you?" he asked excitedly, rubbing his hands together. "That really is progress."

If he were anything but a Viking commanding a village that was always at war, she might have been alarmed by how happy he was with that. "We killed it together," which was true, "but yes. Pretty much all that remains to be done is flight, and that is waiting on Gobber."

"Aye, he's working as fast he can," Stoick said, his tone rueful and... sad? "Hiccup's designs are, to put it in his words, 'crazier than a Berserker with a beehive over his helmet and a rat up his tunic.' He's working on it, but it's not easy at all."

She wouldn't know that, having not been to the forge in a few weeks, lacking any reason to go as her ax was in good condition. Fishlegs would come get her once it was ready. "Good to know. And I'm not surprised. It was that complex when I saw it." Gears, thin rods, and wires, all somehow formed into a tailfin and controlling device that could withstand Toothless's quite powerful movement and even match it? She would have no idea where to start if a perfectly formed example lay in front of her, let alone reconstructing one from schematics and designs that very likely weren't complete.

"Aye, he was good with that stuff," Stoick agreed gruffly, turning away for a moment. "I can set the demonstration for as late as the third day after they arrive, but that might not give you much time to work on flight. If needed, you can keep that to a minimum. Just prove you can do it to some extent."

"Got it." She had already planned to do that. Insane maneuvers like what Toothless had tortured her with what felt like so long ago were not on the list of priorities. Later, much later, if at all.

"Oy," a new voice interrupted, "Stoick, put 'er to work! She's lazin' around while we all pitch in." Mildew walked by as he finished his request, carrying a small beam of wood while Fungus trailed behind him.

"Like we did with you when you showed up and refused to help?" Stoick asked calmly. "Sure. Astrid, do something useful. It's up to you to decide what."

"You stuck me on this job," Mildew complained. "Put her somewhere worse, don't let her pick!"

"Get over here with that wood, Mildew!" an angry Viking yelled from across the plaza. "Hoark is stuck holding up the building until we can put it into place!"

Mildew sneered and continued walking, not speeding up at all.

"Faster, or I'll make you take Hoark's place," Stoick remarked. Mildew's pace increased noticeably.

"I can help," Astrid said eagerly. "Where do you want me?"

"Go help the others up in the Great Hall," Stoick decided.

Astrid nodded and left him there, content. She had nothing else to do, and she really didn't mind pitching in. It made her look good, which would make her mother and father happy, which in turn would make them less insistent about her working on her reputation or looking for someone to take over with Toothless. Given she wouldn't do the latter and was already doing the former, it was better for everyone when they didn't push her on those subjects.

When she entered the Great Hall, she wasn't expecting anything, so she was quite surprised to see a reunion, of sorts.

They were all there. Tuffnut was chiseling away at something on the underside of a table, and his sister was down there with him. Fishlegs was hammering a nail into a stool Astrid distinctly remembered as unstable. Snotlout was in a dark corner, fiddling with something. She couldn't see what, as the shadows hid it, but somehow, she knew it wasn't anything to do with fixing up the Great Hall. He just looked like he might be helping, at least to the casual observer.

Still, they were all there, and she didn't mind working with most of them. It had been weeks since she saw Tufffnut, and while Ruffnut was around, she had not talked to her either. Fishlegs had been holed up in the forge, and of course she actively avoided Snotlout. This could be time to catch up with some of the other teens.

After taking another look around, she noticed that Ruffnut and Tuffnut were working together on something. That was a new development, so she decided to start with them. She approached the table they were messing with, and after a moment of deliberation crawled under, getting a good look at-

"Disgusting." She quickly pulled out from under the table.

"Yeah, but someone has to get this stuff off, and the Chief said since it was probably us who put most of it here, we should be that someone," Ruffnut explained sourly.

Astrid did not question how the Chief had known it was the Twins who were responsible for the buildup of rotting food on the underside of the table, too busy wondering how nobody had ever smelled the horrors she had just seen while eating on the top of the very same table. "Were all the tables like this?" She could not recall eating at this one, but she had sat at others recently enough.

"Yup, this one isn't as bad as some of the others were. We got those cleaned already," Tuffnut replied, his voice muffled. "Hey, a whole fish! I know that wasn't us."

"Yeah, we're not that wasteful," Ruffnut agreed, before seeming to remember she was still mad at her brother. She scooted out from under the table. "I'm going to get some air."

Tuffnut scooted out after her, watching her go. "I hope she gets over it soon."

"You do kind of deserve it, from her point of view," Astrid remarked.

"True. Still." Tuffnut stood, dragging a bucket out from under the table, one filled with horrible rot... and topped with one just as rotten fish, somehow still whole.

Okay, time to move on before she added the contents of her own stomach to that bucket. She left the twins and approached Fishlegs, who was now cradling his hand.

"Need a hand?" she asked, somewhat seriously. She could at least hammer a nail without hammering herself in the process.

"If I do that again, maybe," he groaned. "One of Gobber's, with a nice hammer attachment for the irony."

"Not _exactly _what I meant," she laughed, picking up the hammer. "Where is the intended victim?"

He gestured to the side of the stool, where a crude nail was stuck, still halfway exposed. She carefully tapped it into place, worried the stool would break further. It really wasn't high quality to start with, and looked halfway to being kindling as it was.

"Yeah, we should just make a new one," Fishlegs said, seeing her caution. "But hey, if one of the Windy Isle guys uses it, it'll be more flammable afterward, so if we're going to burn it for firewood, we should wait."

"What?" She didn't follow that logic at all.

"You know, Windy Isle? They're known for the strongest wind of all the archipelago!" he explained excitedly. "They can light it on fire, too!"

"Seriously?" She had thought 'Windy' was in reference to the weather, not that. "Suddenly, I don't want to meet any of them." Or marry into their tribe. Or live on their island. Berk Vikings were obnoxious enough about that sort of thing without throwing tribal pride in it!

Just another reason to try very hard to avoid moving there. As if she needed another.

"Of course," Fishlegs continued happily. "They even hold yearly competitions. Like Thawfest."

"That's nice," she remarked absently, not really meaning it. "Also," she continued in order to change the subject, "I can return your book soon. I'm pretty much done with it." They would probably never stop adding gestures as needed, but they had taken everything usable from Fishlegs' book by now.

"I can come and get it when Gobber sends me to tell you we're done with your... with the saddle and tail," he finished quickly. "It's probably going to take us a few more weeks, but we're working on it."

"I hope it doesn't take that long," she admitted, "but fine. And sure, I can give the book back then." She looked the stool over, setting Fishlegs' carpentry hammer down on top of it. "Think it'll collapse the moment someone sits on it?"

"I give it a seventy-three percent chance," he announced. "Ninety-three if it's a Windy Isle Viking. At least Berkians know to be careful with this one."

"Is careful something we do?" she asked rhetorically, looking towards the exit of the Great Hall and wondering what else needed to be done that she could accomplish. The twins had handled the tables, the floor was kept more or less clean to prevent pointless injury by slipping and falling, and the back, where the food was served, was already kept spotless by Bucket, who had a thing for only eating off of clean surfaces, and had long ago taken it upon himself to keep that area perfectly clean. His head injury certainly did make him do strange things, sometimes. Wearing a bucket was just one of them.

All in all, there was not much more to be done here-

She felt a presence behind her. Fishlegs was in her line of sight, and Tuffnut would not sneak up on her like this, knowing she was dangerous. Ruffnut had left the Great Hall.

She thought all of this over in an instant, quickly deducing who it must be- and acting. She jabbed her elbow out behind her, catching something hard but yielding. A strangled exhale echoed from far too close behind her.

She took a step forward and spun, finding exactly what she had expected. Snotlout, totally winded by a strike to the gut.

"I'm sorry," she lied in a toneless voice, "I didn't know who I would be hitting." She would not apologize at all, but she had no desire to give Snotlout ammo to levy against her in the future. His threat of taking her to trial over any further assault or threat and winning because she was not liked among the village was still very much in effect, forcing her to be cautious. But he could not make anything of that little incident, because there were two witnesses who could and would testify that she had not even known it was him.

She would also say the same, lying if needed, though she thought she could phrase things as to make it not an outright lie. Either way, she was prepared to do whatever it took to make sure he lost.

All of that was background information, things she had already decided on. She was totally focused on Snotlout as he recovered, standing straight once more. He had his sword, though it was not the same one as that day in the woods. For all she knew that one was still lying in the dirt somewhere near the cove, rusting away. He was not allowed to go out and get it, and she would refuse if he asked her to retrieve it, so he had never bothered asking.

"Worth it," he asserted, staring openly at her. His threat still made him bold, and she had no recourse. "Say, I was wondering. There will probably be dancing when the tribe of farts gets here, so I've come to ask-"

"No, I will not tolerate you within ten feet of me, at a dance or otherwise," she gritted, making no pretense at civility. "Dance alone. You're self-absorbed enough to enjoy that if you try." His threat might protect him physically, but it did nothing verbally, aside from making threats of violence unwise. She could and would cut him to the core if given reason, and he very likely did not have the protection she now had, that of truly not caring. His ego would bleed, even if she could not make him bleed for real.

"I'm hurt," he announced, an edge to his voice suggesting he did not care as little as he made it seem. "But I'm willing to forgive your _vicious_ and _unprovoked_ attack on me if you would just-"

"What is there to forgive?" she asked, not expecting an answer. "I'm innocent, and so is the dragon." She had no trouble calling Toothless 'the dragon' here in public; it was just another little part of who she was that she chose not to show to Berk yet. She didn't know how she would refer to him during the demonstration. Practically speaking, it would be smarter to keep up the facade, but she was beginning to not want to. Let them see that her version of 'control' was not what they expected. It was better in any case.

That was for the future, though, not here and now. Here and now, she wanted Snotlout out of her face. "And should I tell Stoick you need something to do?"

Snotlout withdrew something from a back pocket, sneering as he did. "Already got it. My dad wants me to give a short speech when the tribe of farts arrives."

"Maybe don't call them that in the speech," Fishlegs suggested. "They do have a proper title. We don't call Berk the tribe of idiots, even if that is one translation of 'Berk'."

That was news to Astrid. "Since when?"

Fishlegs shrugged. "Since forever. Berk means different things in different languages, and in one of them it means an idiot. I don't think that's what our ancestors had in mind when they named the island, but still."

"So when we say someone is a Berkian to the core," she concluded, "we may as well be calling them a massive idiot?" That was hilarious. Also hilarious was how she was totally keeping Snotlout out of the conversation, keeping Fishlegs talking fast enough to block him out.

"And when we say someone is the model of Berkian behavior, well, you get the idea," Fishlegs continued enthusiastically. "Of course, it could be worse. We could be called the Meatheads, for instance. At least with Berk, most people don't know it can be an insult. Nobody thinks being called a Meathead is complimentary."

"Hey, it isn't?" Snotlout asked angrily, finally cutting back into the conversation. "Tuffnut!"

"Present," Tuffnut shouted back from the other side of the hall, now halfway up one of the supporting pillars, shining something with a dirty rag. How had he gotten up there?

"When you come down, I'm going to get you," Snotlout asserted, seeing that he wouldn't be able to reach Tuffnut. "Now, Astrid."

"Is leaving," she finished for him, turning away. "Go do something useful." She was out the door before he could respond.

* * *

Later that day, she made her way back home, deciding to take the time to organize her own room. Nobody would be staying with her family and their tainted reputation, but she might as well make her room at least as clean as the rest of Berk was becoming.

Besides, there wasn't much to do. Her room was still sparse, save for the pile of Hiccup's things in the corner.

She stopped at those, feeling a bit sad. He was gone, and he was never coming back. This was all she had of him. This, and Toothless.

At least she had that much. Stoick had nothing except the rest of what had been in his room.

Oh well. She sifted through the parchments, looking for a few in particular. The good drawings of Toothless, the ones that looked like pieces of art the traders might bring in on their ships every once in a while. Three in particular stood out to her. Toothless sleeping, Toothless pouncing, and Toothless looking out to sea. There were more, but these three caught her attention.

She kept those out of the pile, setting them aside. The rest of his things she sorted and put into a wooden chest, one meant for clothing. She had a few extras, preferring to keep to only a few main outfits. She slid that chest into the corner and placed more everyday things on top of it.

There. Now nobody could see the parchments, and they were safe from accidental destruction. She really should not have left them out in the open so long anyway.

As for the others... she liked them. She stuck them up on a ledge built into the wall opposite her bed, in a place where they would only be noticeable if one looked for them. Not hidden, just not flaunted. She liked that, too.

It was a little sad that she didn't have any drawings of both Hiccup and Toothless, but as Hiccup was the artist, that made sense. He must have watched Toothless for hours to get such amazingly accurate details right, and doing the same with himself was obviously impossible.

Really, having such accurate images of someone, or some _dragon_ in this case, was unusual. Even the portraits of Chiefs and their sons that hung in the Great Hall were more stylized than accurate. If one had a red beard, it would be exaggerated to a red bush that covered half the shield that has been used in place of parchment or canvas, and so on.

Would the next shield to go up in the Great Hall be of Snotlout? She shuddered at that line of thought. Berk was going to face some hard times in the future. Hopefully, Snotlout would not be Chief for long, however that could be achieved. Maybe a raid would pick him off.

Raids... of which there still had not been one. She was fine with that. The freeze was coming, and raids did not occur in the Winter. The general consensus was that the dragons couldn't bear the cold, but she figured it was more likely, having seen the nest, that they were just sticking close to home, like Vikings did. How they fed their overlord during that time was a mystery to her.

Maybe it hibernated? It lived in a volcano, so that would be a bit odd, but maybe all dragons did? She hadn't seen Toothless showing any signs of slowing down as the cold settled in, but he was a bad example if she wanted to know about the typical dragon. She did also wonder about the cold, but he had been fine in the frigid sea, and showed no signs of suffering from lack of heat.

Lack of food, on the other hand, might soon become a problem. If boar were all that remained on Berk's menu for a dragon, and those were slowly and steadily being taken out... eventually, they would run out of those, too.

She resolved to start bringing him fish, if she could afford it. Maybe it was time to turn her odd jobs back into a source of income again. Working without pay had not endeared her to the village anyway. She could at least slow Toothless's depletion of his only free food source.

And maybe if she could get him into the air, he could show her how Night Furies kept themselves fed in the wild. It definitely wasn't through looting Viking storehouses, because Night Furies never stole food, and she knew for a fact that all the food went to one dragon in particular anyway. He probably had some way of fishing, if she judged by his love of whatever chunks of seafood she took to him from the Great Hall on occasion.

So, flight would solve more than one problem, it seemed. Good. Now she just needed to wait until Gobber and Fishlegs produced the complex machinery that would allow it.

Would they finish it before the Windy Isle tribe arrived? She didn't know. Hopefully. She would like more than three days to learn to fly, if at all possible, though she could probably do it in a few hours, at least to the extent that would be needed for the demonstration.

Still, the question remained. Which would happen first?


	20. A Dangerous Plan

The morning dawned cold and cloudy. Snow was not quite a possibility, but that would not stay true for long. Every day was a little colder than the last, in the annual buildup to the first snowfall and then subsequent freeze.

So stupid, to travel at this time of year. Astrid's opinion of the Windy Isle tribe was not high. She wouldn't have been looking forward to their arrival even if she did not have her own problems, problems they were a part of, to deal with. She would rather they not visit at all.

But they were here. Well, almost. Ships had been sighted on the horizon by the night watch, patches of light on the dark sea. She had woken, like most of the village, to Stoick's booming voice announcing a meeting in the Great Hall that morning.

So, she had gotten up, groggy and tired, and bundled up. Forget toughness, to go outside in the cold was to risk frostbite. If there was one thing no Viking ever criticized or made fun of, it was dressing to beat the cold. They all understood that, no matter how tough. Cold was one enemy they knew they could not kill, only guard against.

Her mother and father had, of course, been doing the same. Nobody prepared breakfast; they could eat at the Great Hall like everyone else.

The Great Hall was a warm, inviting place today, a stark contrast to the frigid, dark village it occupied. Torches were blazing, and there were enough people already there to warm it up with body heat alone. The thick and piping-hot oatmeal being handed out was also helping keep everyone warm and content while they waited.

She grabbed three bowls from the Vikings handing them out and brought them back to her parents, lurking near the door. It was not the best place in the Hall to be standing, a little drafty, but she personally didn't mind. She didn't want to be up near the back of the Hall. It would be far too easy to get stuck behind an uncaring crowd if everyone decided to leave at once. At least here she could be sure she would not have to wait for everyone else to leave before making her own exit.

Eventually, Stoick made his presence known. "Okay, listen up! As ye all may know, the Windy Isle tribe has been sighted approaching the village. They should be here by noon. So, it's time for a few announcements. If ye know anyone who isn't here, be sure to pass all of this on."

"And if somebody wants ta go talk ta Mildew, my condolences on yer madness," Gobber added from his place by Stoick's side, "but somebody's gotta make sure the old man doesn' mess anythin' up, so that's gotta be done."

"Right here, peg leg," Mildew sneered from the middle of the crowd. "Nice to hear how you lot talk about me when I'm not around."

"We talk like that to your face, old man," the man standing next to him remarked.

"Anyway," Stoick continued, "a few ground rules. No killing visitors."

There was a brief pause as that sunk in. Astrid thought she heard a few disgruntled complaints, which was just stupid. They were _visitors_, you didn't try to kill visitors.

"Unless they attack you, in which case have at it," Stoick amended after a moment. "But I'll be dealin' justice afterward, so it had better be an unprovoked attack. No insultin' contests gone sour."

"Bu' that's the best part!" someone protested.

"I want every Windy Viking alive and in fighting shape when they leave, do you understand me?" Stoick growled. "They may not be official allies, but Thunderguts and I are on good terms, and I want something out of them, so don't mess it up."

Thunderguts? If Fishlegs hadn't told her why the Windy Isle tribe was named as such already, she would probably have wondered why he was called that. As it was, she knew too much to find it an impressive name.

"Also," he added, "no discussing Astrid, or why nobody except Astrid goes into the woods, a rule that will apply to them just as thoroughly as it does you all. I want all o' that to be a surprise to knock their boots off on the third day."

Nobody objected. Viking pride would keep their mouths more or less shut, if only because they liked impressing another tribe only slightly more than gossiping. Some rumors might float around, but nothing substantial.

"What about Hiccup? What do we tell 'em as to why Snotlout is now next in line?" someone asked.

"A good question. Officially, we will say Hiccup died in dragon training, and that Astrid was disqualified due to suffering an accident right before finding out who would take the final test. Is that understood?"

Now things were getting sketchy. The odds that everyone would hold to the same cover story were low. Some people would forget, and others would embellish or outright change the details. It was a good thing they only had to keep it secret for two days, though Astrid did wonder why Stoick wouldn't just tell all of these impressive stories on the first day. There was probably some unspoken rule or old custom involved.

"Also, since we don't have guest huts, some of you will have the honor of hosting them," Stoick continued, changing the subject rather abruptly. "I'll need representatives from each of the following families to meet the ships at the docks, so that I can assign guests to each home."

Here came the list, the one her family would not be on. Astrid listened carefully anyway.

"Jorgenson, Haldirson, Ingerman, Thorston, Cravidason..." Stoick began.

All expected, though she pitied Fishlegs, who was going to have to handle whoever he and his mother were stuck with. At least he would have expected and prepared for this; his family _was _one of the most respectable on Berk, if not the most prominent or important.

Then Stoick... kept going. And going. It sounded like half the Windy Isle tribe was coming, a far cry from the two ships most visits consisted of.

"... Bazindaon, Hofferson, Piron..."

And her family was going to be hosting one or more people anyway, despite their tarnished name. Most of Berk was, at this rate. There were a _lot _of visitors.

"You cleaned your room, right?" her mother whispered, almost inaudible over the murmuring of the crowd.

She nodded, glad she had done it despite not thinking they would be hosting anyone.

Stoick wrapped up the list. "As you can tell, we have a lot of visitors. That'll make more sense if all goes well. We are only planning to host them for a week, so that we can set out before the ice begins to form."

A strange thing. He had said 'we' and not 'they' as one would expect. A slip of the tongue, most likely.

"We?" several different voices echoed, clearly confused.

"It depends on whether I can convince Thunderguts to agree to something," Stoick explained with a sly smile that looked out of place on his normally... well, stoic, face. "This is also something I want to keep secret until the third day. It will make sense then."

After her demonstration, probably. Which in turn meant it either involved what she could do, or something else they were keeping-

The answer hit Astrid like a hammer blow, one aimed directly at her stomach. Suddenly, she felt cold despite the warmth in the air.

It could only be an allied strike on the nest, with the added insurance of a dragon to lead the way. They were going after the monstrosity before the ice really did set in. The timing fit, too; Stoick had to have contacted the Windy Isle tribe around the time she and Hiccup had gone missing, when his mind would have been on dragons and vengeance at all costs.

That was a problem, because unless she was missing something, even with the Windy Isle Vikings, they were going to be hilariously underpowered. The monstrosity could destroy Berk on its own; why did Stoick think doubling their numbers would be enough? She wasn't sure if ten times the number of Vikings on Berk could make a dent in that thing!

If she was right. If she was not just guessing incorrectly. It felt right, but she could not be sure.

"Other than that, go about yer lives as normal," Stoick instructed. "We'll all be meeting around the Great Hall tonight for a feast, so the cooks might need a little help if anyone wants to pitch in." With that he began moving through the crowd, a path opening before him.

Astrid ignored her mother's half-hearted suggestion that she help the cooks. She was terrible with all forms of cooking, and they both knew it. She waited until Stoick was out the doors, and followed behind, slipping into the bubble people cleared for him. "Sir."

"Astrid." He kept walking, knowing she would follow. The wind was bitterly cold, and the sun was not present, hiding behind slate-grey clouds. "Your family can host up to two extra people, right?"

"Yes, we can." Barely. One would sleep on the floor in her parents' room, or hers if it was someone near her age and female, and the other out in the main part of the hut. "I wanted to talk to you about something else."

"The demonstration is going to be good, right? We want to impress upon Thunderguts just how useful it can be when properly controlled."

"Yes. Sir, do the Windy Isle Vikings bring anything... specific... to a fight?" She was being vague, but she didn't know what she was hoping for.

"Well, they're good with ballista, which we don't use," Stoick explained. "Powerful bolts that can pierce stone. Those will be useful."

"When you go dragon hunting, to find the nest and take it," she said flatly, now judging them far enough away from the Great Hall to be at least somewhat private, walking through empty streets.

"Aye, and you'll keep quiet about that." Stoick stopped, staring at her. "How did you know?"

"I guessed. Chief, I hope these ballistae are very, very strong," she said quietly. "I know what they'll be firing at, and it's not rock. It's so much worse." If she thought he could be convinced not to do it, she would be trying, but she could tell he wouldn't listen.

He smiled reassuringly and clapped a hand to her shoulder. "Cheer up, they'll be fine. I'll get Thunderguts to demonstrate them at some point before we leave. It'll be a good morale-raising event." With that he left, heading to the docks, though it would be hours before the ships arrived.

She took some comfort in that. He had called in Vikings already armed appropriately for this fight. They would stand a chance. How much of one depended on just how strong those ballistae were. She could imagine a large spear puncturing the rock-like hide on that monstrosity.

And she could just as easily envision that same spear bouncing off to absolutely no effect. Either was entirely possible.

Astrid helped her mother and father tidy up the rest of the hut, the hours before the Windy Isle Vikings made land slipping away. She was nervous, but she wasn't sure which part of all of this was causing it. Was it the fact that her parents would be hunting for a suitable man among the Vikings who were even now arriving on the island? Was it that the demonstration was three days away? Or was it that all of that would quickly cease to matter as both tribes sailed to what could very well be their doom soon after?

Probably all three. On the bright side, that last one could very well make the first one irrelevant. She would have to watch her parents closely, but as settling a marriage contract took a while, and her father would keep her up to date, she could be pretty sure she'd know at least a day before it was official.

The docks were just as cold as the rest of Berk, with the added problem of surf being tossed by the waves, soaking all involved. Six warships had just finished docking, their sailors clearly ready to pick up weapons and fight. If she did not know that they were here to join Berk in fighting someone else, she would worry they intended to take over the island, with this many warriors.

A large man with a massive potbelly stepped onto the dock, followed by a slim woman and a young girl who couldn't be more than ten years old. Following them was a small flood of similar families. It seemed the men of Windy Isle were, as a rule, on the fatter side. Great.

Stoick stepped forward to meet Thunderguts, and the two clasped hands to perform a greeting that would likely kill lesser men, slamming their helmets together, the resounding metallic clang that resulted echoing across the docks.

"Stoick, good to see you alive and kicking," Thunderguts exclaimed. "And I think we took an arrow for you last month. The dragons came to us."

Stoick nodded. "Aye, that would explain our good fortune. I assume you sent 'em packing?"

"We're always ready, and more time means more ballistae rebuilt between each attack," Thunderguts exclaimed loudly. "I have nine with me, ready to be assembled, our strongest yet."

"And we may very well need them," Stoick said conspiratorially. "You know I have a proposition for you. But let us not speak of that today. Rest today, party tomorrow, and negotiate the day after. We also have a demonstration planned for before the negotiations."

"Sounds like a plan," Thunderguts agreed. "Now, some of my people are really looking forward to getting somewhere warm..."

"Of course." Stoick began the somewhat lengthy process of assigning visitors to host homes. He called up a family, had them say how many they could take, and let Thunderguts decide who went to that family.

Eventually, it was their turn. "Hofferson," Stoick called.

Astrid stepped forward with her parents, her hand on her ax. It was not considered disrespectful to be at the ready; rather, to be ready to fight was considered a sign of respect. It meant she considered Thunderguts and whoever else he had brought worth consideration as potential foes.

Or something like that. She really just didn't feel entirely comfortable with the foreign Chief. He was like a version of Stoick with a little too much confidence and too little humility. He felt dangerous, and not in a good way.

"We can take two, though our home is sparse," her father announced neutrally. "Ideally, one of them will be a girl about my daughter's age or younger, so that they can share her room."

Personally, Astrid was hoping for a girl in the range of six to eight years old. Old enough to follow orders, but young enough to not be too nosy, and to still have that sense of wonder younger children all held. That would be nice.

"Sounds like Valordottir and her daughter to me," Thunderguts grunted loudly. "Get on up here, Valordottir!"

That was an oddly on-the-nose name. Astrid wondered how the family had come to be called that.

An older woman and her young daughter stepped forward, smiling nervously. The smile faltered as she surveyed Berk, as if she just wasn't all that happy to be there. Astrid didn't understand that. Surely not _all _of the Windy Isle had come along, so this woman had chosen to be here.

The woman with the surname Valordottir, for Astrid had not heard her first name, if Thunderguts had even said, regained her composure and stepped forward, nodding politely to Asa. "We thank you for your hospitality. I hope you do not mind?"

"Not a problem," her mother reassured the Windy Isle woman. "You and your daughter are welcome, though we do not have much."

"That is fine, we are used to living sparsely," the woman remarked. "My daughter is weary."

That certainly seemed true enough. The young girl was following along with drooping eyes, holding her mother's hand and almost nodding off even as she walked. She had blond hair, which was common enough, and Astrid couldn't see the color of her eyes. She looked to be about four, so younger than Astrid had hoped.

They walked in near silence back to the Hofferson hut, the woman not seeming to want to talk much.

Once they were home, Astrid's mother immediately nodded to Astrid's room. "Your daughter can sleep there. There is a bed. Astrid, if you would?"

Sure, that was fine. Really, she was already planning to sleep on the floor herself. No reason to make the little girl rough it. "Right this way." She led their two guests to her room, thankful she had put her most important things out of reach already, and quickly put the rest of her assorted sharp objects up on the same ledge the drawings occupied.

The mother quickly laid her daughter down on the bed, getting her ready for sleep. Astrid left them to it.

Out in the main room of the hut, her mother nodded approvingly. They could not speak unless they intended the woman to hear, given how thin the inner walls were, but gestures would be private enough.

Astrid smiled inwardly at that thought. She was very, very good with hand gestures now, not that it mattered. It was kind of funny that this would be the perfect time for them if her parents had known any. Ironic, in a way.

The woman emerged from Astrid's room a few moments later, looking far more relaxed. "Thank you, Vanna got no sleep last night. She was too excited."

"I understand that, though it has been a while," Asa said comfortingly. "I am surprised you came along, really, though it seems many did."

"My husband was in the Chief's inner circle when he died, and the Chief likes to honor that by treating me as if he was still alive and serving," the woman explained sadly. "That includes going on these trips, along with quite a few more everyday benefits. I cannot refuse. He is far kinder than he has to be."

So, she was a widow, one who had lost her husband... fairly recently, if Astrid had to guess. At least now her reason for not wanting to be here was obvious; she only came because she didn't want to offend the one supporting her and her daughter.

"Oh... how long?" Asa asked carefully. "If you would be willing to say."

"Three years ago, to fever," the woman said sadly. "He did not die fighting, but that was not anyone's fault."

"Sometimes things happen," Sighvat agreed. "But I think we should not be interrogating a guest."

The woman laughed at that. "Oh, that is fine. I am used to new people asking questions. We were the new ones on Windy Isle only a few years before that. We moved around a lot."

Astrid saw a significant glance pass between her parents. She understood that; the same could very well be said of them, given they were even now planning to move on from Berk, and had left somewhere else for Berk in the first place.

"Regardless, we are being nosy," her father joked. "If you wish to look around Berk, I'm pretty sure Asa would love to take you. One of us can stay here to be sure your daughter is not left alone."

"Perfect," the woman agreed. "Oh, you know her name, but not mine. I am Helga."

Astrid couldn't say she was surprised; that was pretty much the most common female name in the archipelago, mostly because people were expected to pick a normal adult name at age twenty, and Vikings had very little originality when naming themselves. Some stuck with their horrible name from childhood, and the rest went with generic ones like 'Lars' or 'Sven' or Helga, as in this case.

Astrid knew what name she would take. Her own. 'Astrid' was perfectly good as it was, probably because her parents didn't care about stupid naming traditions.

"Well, Helga, your daughter is safe here... assuming my daughter put away her weapons," Asa reassured leading her to the door.

"I did," Astrid supplied, quite unnecessarily. The two women were out the door before she finished speaking.

"She seems nice enough," her father remarked. "A little shy, which is different."

"For a Viking, definitely. I wonder what she does for a living." Probably not any sort of fighting or physical activity; she was slender and looked as if she would blow over in a strong wind.

"Don't ask like that," Sighvat warned sternly. "Let me or your mother ask about her life. We can be more tactful."

Astrid resented him implying that she could not be subtle; she could if she wanted to. And she was getting plenty of practice with situations that required careful thought or finesse, thanks to carefully concealing the true nature of Toothless and how she was training him. Not that he would know about that.

"As long as I get to hear," she said, thinking that knowledge about the Windy Isle would be useful. At best, she could twist something Helga said into a very good reason _not _to try and marry into their tribe, and at worst she wouldn't be going in blind when the time came. She could find out how they treated the women of the tribe, or whether there would be anywhere like Berk's forests to hide Toothless, or…

"Actually…" she said slowly, trying to think through what had just occurred to her. Something about Toothless, and maybe marrying into the Windy Isle tribe, and how she didn't want to do that at all, and how she could use the former to stall on the latter.

"Yes?"

"About the plan… I think it would be best if you not start looking until after the third day," she explained. "It might be a waste of time before then."

"Or it might be best to seal a contract before they find out you trained a dragon, even if we're leaving it here," her father corrected with a sly smile. "But I see your point. You want whoever it is to know what they're marrying."

"More or less," she mumbled, ashamed of her own deception, but still sure it was the right path to take. After the third day, Stoick would have announced the plan to attack the nest, and everyone would be too busy preparing for war to do anything about marriage, her parents included. And after attacking the nest... well, if they all survived that, then she would have to deal with it, because there'd be plenty of time to arrange marriages then and no way for her to get out of it.

"I'll look around of course, but it should not be hard to wait that long before making any overtures," he agreed.

There. One more attempt to sidestep her future. Hopefully, this one would work.

She forced herself to put all of that out of her mind. She had done her best to avoid it for now, and she had no other ideas, so there was nothing more she could do. "So, should I stay here, or will you?" Someone needed to stay home with the sleeping girl in her room.

"Go out and mingle," her father advised. "Or, if you need to, go work in some last-minute preparation for the demonstration. Tomorrow is going to be busy, so I think this is your last chance."

It was, at that. "I'll do that," she decided. She didn't need to train Toothless or go over any last-minute instructions. They had already worked it all out and practiced that which could be practiced. But she wouldn't pass up a chance to spend time with him in the forest instead of babysit a child.

Actually... "I need to go to the forge." They had to have finished the tailfin and saddle by now. She needed both for the demonstration. Fishlegs hadn't come to tell her they were done, but they were probably close enough. She needed that tailfin, even if she had to pitch in and help them finish it. This was more than cutting it close.

"We're working on it!" Fishlegs squealed frantically, blocking her view of the interior of the forge. "Now get out of here! Gobber is making something else, and he doesn't want you to see it yet!"

That was news to Astrid, but she took it in stride. "If this other thing is making the important parts late, I need Gobber to forget it, because I _need_ time to know what I'm doing," Astrid gritted. "So, let me in."

"That stuff is pretty much done," Fishlegs revealed. "But the..."

He leaned in, looking around furtively to be sure he would not be overheard. "The tail is really hard to make. Gobber's busted three already. He's just getting some more thread and oil from the storehouse right now. It's all we're working on, and you'll have it the moment it's done."

"All you're working on," she repeated.

"Seriously, there are piles of broken weapons to the ceiling, but we're ignoring them for now," Fishlegs groaned. "You all get to celebrate, but the two of us are going to be at work all day tomorrow and the day after. I'm only allowed to see your demonstration because Gobber is going-"

"And I'm only goin' because this thing is drivin' me batty, and I'm gonna see it done in time or die tryin'," Gobber announced, startling both of them. "Astrid, it will be done before the end o' tomorrow. Your demonstration, accordin' to Stoick, is in the afternoon of the next day, so ye'll have the morning to get used to it."

That would have to be enough. She really should have set this task in motion sooner than she had. "I understand, Gobber, but that's going to be tight." If she did not already know basically how it worked, along with having seen flight before from behind Hiccup, she would not think it possible.

That, and she was confident Toothless could walk her through whatever was needed for gliding, which was all their plan required. Actually flying was likely going to have to be learned after the demonstration, and learned well, because if they were really going to the nest, she was going to need to be good in the saddle. Very good, just to not hinder Toothless. She had no idea how they might be needed in the fight, but that was their only weak point at the moment. Flight, or the lack thereof.

She left the forge, not wanting to slow Fishlegs and Gobber- who, to their credit, almost ran back into the forge, locking the door and leaving the window shuttered. They really were dedicated. She was just glad she did not have to make it herself.

Going into the forest was a challenge this time around, because she did not want to be seen by any of the visitors, who were all over the village. They would ask questions about why she was allowed to go when nobody else was, and she had little faith in the Vikings of Berk to effectively improvise an answer to that difficult question. So, she put some of her recent practice in sneaking to good use.

Then she loitered by the edge of the village, waiting for nobody to be within view. The moment she got an opening, she bolted for the forest edge, crossing the field as fast as possible.

It was a good thing the Windy Isle Vikings were only going to be in the dark for two more days. She hated having to hide this after so long not hiding it and just dealing with the disdain.

There was a thought, one she pondered on her way to Toothless's den. What would have happened if Stoick had let her train Toothless, but only in secret, keeping the village out of the forest for some made-up reason?

Well, assuming there were no public demonstrations, she'd have been sneaking into the forest from the start. She would still be respected in the village, though people would start asking questions about why she had no job, and what she did all day instead of said nonexistent occupation. Maybe Stoick would have made her a dedicated warrior to forestall the first question, but that would have come with its own set of problems.

Problematic, all in all. She couldn't see a way to prevent questions, and eventually the discovery that she went into the woods. Then Stoick would be forced to punish her for treason, or to reveal he was letting her go in, which in turn would force the revelation of the dragon and what she was doing. Really, there was no way for her to do it in secret for long.

Hiccup had only gotten away with it because nobody questioned his oddness. Nobody cared if he disappeared every afternoon, and he already had a job. One Gobber had seemed okay with him skipping half the time, to boot. His life was perfectly set up to do what she would not be able to, and to do it easily enough.

Perfectly set up to be ignored. She did not envy him that, not even now. At least derision was recognition, and she knew what she did was right.

She made it to Toothless's den quickly enough, following his ideal paths, as always now. He was not around, so she sat in the clearing and waited. He would show up soon enough.

It took less than five minutes this time around. Toothless bounded out from the trees, three...

Rabbits. Three partially eviscerated rabbits were dangling from his mouth, bloody and very much dead.

"Oh, Toothless," she sighed. "Couldn't find anything better?"

He groaned, dropping two of the rabbits and swallowing the third whole. The remaining two were set in the cave and left alone. He was storing them for later. He was that sure he'd need them later. Prey must be getting very, very scarce.

She scratched under his chin in a way she knew he liked, feeling sorry for him. "Don't worry, soon it won't be a problem." She didn't want to tell him about the saddle and tailfin until she had them with her, for fear he'd venture into the village in search of them. "I'll bring you a whole fish next time I come out here, okay?"

He purred approvingly at that, settling down to sit by her, curled into a tight circle quite like in one of the three drawings she had sitting up on her shelf back home.

She moved over to lean against him, savoring the heat his entire body radiated. "Just a few more days. Then we can get the demonstration out of the way, and... I have no idea after that." The future was too uncertain to say much. She knew she would strive to stay on Berk and unmarried, or at least to keep Toothless with her. He was a friend, and one she felt responsible for. He would be happier with her, wherever that was. And she definitely would be happier to have him around, no matter what changed. He might end up being the one bright spot in her new married life if things played out that way.

Too much was uncertain for her to know more than that. They might go after the monstrosity she wanted to kill...

She touched the place on her arm where the shell still rested, held there by arm wrappings and now actual sleeves on top, taken out and then put back whenever she changed her clothing. She had planned to hold that promise, to return and end the horror that commanded the enemy, but she had not thought to do it so soon. If the Windy Isle Vikings really had ballistae strong enough, it could be done.

Things were coming to a head, in one way or another. In the coming days she might touch the sky, become betrothed to someone she did not know, or die at the nest. Or maybe she would be run off Berk by a mob of suddenly enraged Vikings chasing Toothless. Or maybe their visitor would stab her in her sleep. Anything could happen, but whatever did happen, it was going to happen soon. So soon.

_**Author's Note: **_**The next few chapters are going to be... interesting. This story is technically not even two-thirds done yet, but the timeline slows considerably from here on out. Chapters covered weeks in some cases prior to now, but the next few cover single days, or even only a part of a single day. That's how intense things are going to get.**

**If one looks at the timeline, we are close to the end. It's the getting there that will take another eleven chapters or so.**


	21. Apprehension and Evasion

If Astrid hadn't known better, she would have assumed the village was under attack. She could hear the uproar from her room. Windy Isle Vikings were early risers, it seemed, for so many to be out in the village so early.

Not the two staying with her family, though. The little girl, Vanna, was still asleep, and as Astrid made her way out into the main room of the hut, she saw Helga was similarly occupied.

Fine by her. She didn't mind having to be quiet in preparing to go out, and she was more than happy to be practically alone. Today was a day of festivities, but for her it was also a day of waiting. She could do that alone.

She left the house without a sound, closing the door quietly behind her, and made her way to the main plaza. That would be where people were gathering. If the sound was not enough evidence, she could see other Vikings from both tribes around, most heading in the same direction.

The plaza, she saw as she reached it, was indeed quite crowded already. A throng of Vikings had formed around something, and by the sound of it there was already a fight going on. Whether or not it was for sport was unclear. She knew the reaction from everyone else would be the same either way.

She also knew that she stood no chance of being able to push her way to somewhere she could see the conflict, so she lingered at the back of the crowd, not really hoping to get a glimpse of the fight so much as not seeing a reason to leave. Today was a day of passing the time, and she could not do it in the forest. Fishlegs might come to get her at any time, and she needed to be somewhere he could find. The moment she laid hands on the saddle and tailfin, she was heading into the forest. Pulling an all-nighter would be risky, but she thought she could do it, and having a whole night to at least try and get used to operating the tailfin would be a huge deal. She was more confident in her ability to stay up two days and a night without sleep than she was of learning what was needed to fly in the time between the dawn and afternoon of the same day.

There was one final cheer from the crowd, and then people began to turn away from the spectacle. Whatever had been going on, it was over now. She didn't bother sticking around to see who had been fighting. What else was happening today?

For that matter, where was Stoick? Or the other Chief, Thunderguts? She assumed Thunderguts and his family were staying at the Chief's hut, more than close enough to the plaza to hear the festivities starting, and any Chief would see the need to be present just to deal with trouble as it arose.

Her question was abruptly answered when a Berkian began yelling. "Oy, clear a path! Clear a path! Thunderguts brought a gift for Berk, and we need to cart it through here!" He began pushing people out of the way, clearing what was actually quite a wide path through the plaza.

Astrid avoided being crushed by the now compressed crowd by standing on a barrel, something none of the heavier Vikings could risk. Doing so gave her a good view too, which was a bonus.

A gift. What would it be? Something big, no doubt, and something that needed to be brought through the plaza. It would obviously be coming from the docks, and the only places directly past the plaza were the Great Hall, some hills, the forest, and the arena.

Maybe they had brought a ballista for Berk? They could be planning to install it on the hills. That would be interesting, though she wasn't sure how much good one ballista would be against an actual raid. Still, it was a nice gesture.

She heard the rattling before she saw the first cart, but something about it sounded off. Ballistae were mainly wood, not metal. So why..?

Then it came into view. That was not a ballista, and they definitely weren't heading for the hills. Given that there was a dragon restrained and very much alive atop a metal-plated cart, they had to be heading for the arena.

The dragon would be for the next session of dragon training, and if she had to guess, this one would take the place of the Nightmare. Because this was... well, to put it bluntly, this wasn't something anyone sane would use to teach people how to fight.

She only recognized it because she had, unlike the twins, actually read the Book of Dragons. Its oddly sharp and strong wing-edges and massive wingspan named it a Timberjack, one with mottled brown scales and yellow eyes. Timberjacks were rare dragons, never seen in raids and only rarely encountered out in the wild. They were known to frequent thick forests and were also known to be extremely sharp and quick, cutting through trees with their wings.

Trees, and Vikings if any were in the way. A Timberjack was no laughing matter. Thunderguts was giving it to them, but he was also bragging in the process. A Nightmare would have been fine, but a Timberjack was almost a taunt.

Not that they wouldn't accept it, or the smaller cage containing five Terrible Terrors that was being carted behind it. They could and would use these dragons next Spring.

The Timberjack was awake and conscious underneath its myriad of restraints, though it could do no more than glare through the metal muzzle it had been fitted with. Its wings in particular were covered with every type of restraint, from metal chains to complex systems of ropes. The Windy Isle Vikings had taken absolutely no chances in keeping it imprisoned, which made sense given they had transported it by boat. If it had broken free on their ship while they were traveling, it likely would have sunk the ship in the process of escaping.

As the Timberjack was pushed through the path cleared for it, Berkians began to catch on that it was bound for the arena. The crowd was humming in anticipation. Quite a few of the exclamations Astrid could make out were along the lines of envying next year's recruits, and the one who would win the right to kill a Timberjack, of all things. The talk did not die down at all when the carts were finally pushed out of sight.

Astrid hopped down from her barrel, not sure how she felt about this new development. They were going to take out the monstrosity soon, if all went well, and then there would be no reason to fight dragons unless they attacked, which she somehow didn't think would be a regular occurrence at all. Did they really need to keep up dragon training?

Well, probably. It would be stupid to stop preparing if dragons could and would show up at any time. There was no other way to deal with them that she knew of.

No other way, because she didn't think what she had with Toothless could be replicated. She had not taken the first steps with him, and she did not know what they were, if there even was a way to do it, assuming Toothless was not an exception to the rule many generations of Vikings had seen in action. Dragons always went for the kill. That Toothless presumably didn't was an anomaly, one she could not expect with any other dragon.

They would probably continue to kill dragons for the foreseeable future, even after the monstrosity was dead. Hopefully the dragons, once free to choose what they did, would learn to avoid Berk. It would be better for everyone that way.

Astrid left the plaza after lingering for a while longer, heading up to the Great Hall for breakfast. The food was bland and tasteless, which she blamed on her lingering nerves. She did not stay there long, unwilling to sit in one place when her nerves would have her always on the move.

Wandering the village today was far more pleasant than other days, because in order to keep her occupation secret, the people of Berk couldn't insult or mock her. Most didn't even glare, acutely aware that she was the one who would be showing off Berk's stubbornness tomorrow, even if it was by demonstrating something most of them would rather not exist. They had to be both resenting and envying her right now, but nothing could be said. Of course, the Windy Isle Vikings knew nothing of the tension that should exist, and paid her no mind.

Well, no more mind than would be normal. She did get stares from a few of the boys around her age. She was far too used to that to care. They would learn what Snotlout and everyone else had already, if they approached her. She had no interest in them, and would ignore or violently spurn them, depending on how annoyed she was.

Well... most of Berk had learned that. Snotlout, she noted with frustration, had not, given he was coming her way. She turned down a side street, knowing it let out almost immediately into another main street. She would not let him corner her in some hidden alleyway, broken arm or not.

Actually... was it still broken? He no longer wore the sling, and it was hard to tell. For all she knew, he was back in fighting shape, and just playing his injury to avoid work. It was entirely possible, if dishonorable.

A quick glance behind her revealed that he was still following, and with two teens she didn't know trailing along behind him, one boy and one girl. He couldn't intend to do much with two Windy Isle Vikings watching, so she wasn't worried. She turned to face them, knowing full well that they were all within view of anyone who passed the short alley. She crossed her arms, the picture of boredom and annoyance.

Snotlout spoke, breaking the uneasy silence. "My offer to dance with you is still open, babe."

"My response is still a definite no," she retorted. "There are plenty of new girls who don't know you well enough to say no if you ask. Pick one of them or just do without."

"I'm the Chief's heir, I shouldn't take any of them. They might get ideas," he complained. "I've gotta marry someone from Berk, to make sure I'm not influenced by outsiders."

"Since when? I'm pretty sure Stoick's wife wasn't from Berk," Astrid recalled. Snotlout was just making excuses now.

"Whatever." Snotlout leered at her. "You're still the prettiest girl on Berk, short hair or not."

"And you're still the ugliest manchild on Berk, status or not," she shot back, making her voice as serious as possible. "Also, what's with the silent entourage?" It bothered her that he could gain followers so quickly, even if they probably would stop following as soon as they noticed how stupid and vain he was.

"Some people see the value in being friends with a future Chief," the boy behind Snotlout remarked.

"And some of us have thought better of it," the girl huffed, casting the boy a significant glance and leaving the way she had come, disappearing into the crowd.

"Well, I guess we know what she wanted," Astrid remarked. At least that girl had escaped a terrible fate there. Being wife of a Chief was not nearly enough benefit to outweigh the massive downside that was known as Snotlout.

"I didn't want her anyway," Snotlout blustered, now looking quite angry. Probably at one of his 'followers' so easily deserting. "You know I'll get what I want eventually."

"You know what happened last time you tried something," she threatened, keeping it vague.

"That wasn't you, that was your..." Snotlout cast a glance at the Windy Isle teen behind him before continuing with a sneer. "Your big brother. And he'll be executed for sure if he does that again."

Astrid couldn't hold in a laugh at that cover story. "Sure, my big brother. But I think he wouldn't really care about the consequences. Last time he broke... what was it, three ribs and an arm? I wonder how horribly he could maim you if he was trying. You certainly didn't put up much of a fight." Toothless very likely _would _care about the consequences, and so would she, but Snotlout thought they were talking about a vicious beast under her control.

Snotlout paled a little. "I was caught off-guard."

"And you will be next time. You are nothing compared to him, and we both know it," she taunted, relishing the fear he was showing. Maybe he didn't respect her anymore, but she could still make him pale, and that was enough. She knew she could still take him on her own as long as she had her new ax, and that was all that mattered.

"He won't be around to protect you next time," Snotlout threatened.

"Do I need protection from you?" she asked rhetorically, putting a hand to her ax. "Believe it or not, I'm still entirely capable of taking you apart myself if needed." She was close to crossing the lines on threatening him now, but she didn't care. He couldn't use it without explaining what he had been saying himself, which was far more suspect.

"Dance with me tonight, or else," he announced.

"Or else," she decided. "And you need to work on your negotiating skills if you want to be Chief. You're horrible at it."

"Shut up, Astrid," he shot back, his face red. "Come on, let's go," he growled, addressing the teen still standing behind him. "She'll come around. She just likes to play hard to get."

"No, I don't, and you would do well to pick better friends, influential or not," Astrid countered, speaking to the teen.

Snotlout left in a huff, and the teen trailed reluctantly behind him. Well, it seemed he wasn't taking her advice to heart... or he was just smarter than the girl had been and was waiting to slip away unnoticed so that Snotlout couldn't be sure he hadn't just gotten separated and lost. Better to not make an enemy of Snotlout even if he didn't plan to hang around him any longer.

But Snotlout would just get more cronies. That he had already picked up two did not bode well. If there was one thing he had always lacked, it was backup. The twins had been too chaotic to count. She did not like to think of what he could do if he had actually effective assistance.

She could not let that go unchecked. Something needed to be done to ensure she had an eye on that situation.

And she knew just who could help.

* * *

Finding Tuffnut had eaten up quite a bit more of her time than she expected, all in all. He was not at the Great Hall or in the village at all. She had eventually located him down at the docks, watching a competition that was for some reason taking place there.

She sat next to him, making a pretense of watching for a moment. The game, if it could be called that, was simple. Two Vikings slammed each other in the head with maces. Whoever could hit the hardest without knocking their opponent out won. It was one of the rare Viking games that rewarded brute force but punished too much of it.

"Who's winning?" she asked as a way of starting the competition.

"That guy from the Windy Isle," Tuffnut replied absently, pointing to one of the competitors currently staggering around drunkenly. "But they're all just competing to see who challenges Spitelout. He's the reigning champ."

"The hardest head of them all," she agreed. "You once said I could come to you for help in dealing with Snotlout."

"Several times if I recall correctly," Tuffnut corrected. "And yeah, I'll help. What do you need?"

"He's picking up followers from among the Windy Isle teens," she explained, tapping her ax on the dock as she spoke. "I don't like the idea of Snotlout with a gang. Could you somehow deal with that?"

"I don't know if I can stop it," Tuffnut replied, now serious. "But I can probably join it and keep tabs on what he's using them for, if you want."

"Good enough." Should she tell him about Snotlout's ultimatum? No, he would be in a position to hear about any planned 'consequences' for defying the order. She didn't need to give him any more reason to keep his ears open; that was the whole point anyway.

"So... other than that..." Tuffnut glanced up at the competition, probably reasoning that all of the competitors were either too involved or too concussed to hear him. "How's preparation with the scaly music critic going?"

"Great." She wasn't sure what she could tell him other than that, partly because she still had yet to decide how she was going to act during the demonstration. There were two options. She could either make it look like nothing had changed since last time, calling out commands that both she and Toothless would know were just for show while they worked, or she could not hide any of it. Let it all be known, or at least not disguised. Her reputation could not sink any further anyway.

Or maybe it could. But she didn't care. Ruffnut had advised her to use her failing reputation to have fun, and this was along the same line of reasoning. She might as well.

"The demonstration will be… Interesting," Astrid belatedly added, deciding to stick with what was true either way. "Things are a lot easier when it comes to working _with _him, not trying to control him."

"More elaborate commands?" Tuffnut guessed. "Fancy tricks? Flying stunts?"

"We don't actually use commands at all now," Astrid said vaguely, practicing walking the thin line between revealing too much and too little. She would have to do as much with Vikings less understanding than Tuffnut in the near future. "I found something better."

"So, my singing was for nothing?" Tuffnut asked, offended.

"Pretty much. And now he'll probably blast you rather than let you open your mouth," she admitted with a grin. "But hey, it was helpful at the time."

"And hopefully," Tuffnut said, standing as he spoke, "this will be helpful too. I'm off to find Snotlout."

That was abrupt. "Why now?"

"Mostly because I see Ruffnut coming, and I know she'll leave if I'm still here. She might as well get to watch the contest," he explained, pointing to a distant figure coming down the ramps that led to the docks.

"She's still mad?" Astrid asked.

"Yes. Who knows when she'll get over it, if ever." His eyes were downcast. "I didn't want to make her hate me, I just wanted some space between us. But if we can't have one without the other..."

"You'll work it out eventually," she asserted, feeling bad for him even if it was technically his doing. "Just keep trying."

"Of course. What else would I do, give up?" He left with a wry smile, taking another way back to the village to avoid his sister. So much for trying.

Astrid left soon after, choosing to go up the ramps instead of following him. He was headed to Snotlout, so she would rather not follow along. It was noon, or close to it. The clouds made it hard to tell. Fishlegs still hadn't come for her.

Time was growing short, but all she could do was wait.

* * *

Several hours of loitering in the village later, and it was time for everyone to go to the Great Hall, or to crowd around outside it, depending on how quick they were to get there. Astrid made it inside, if barely. The place was packed, though there was an open space in the center, one cleared of tables. That would be for dancing later. She planned to not participate at all, just to avoid Snotlout.

Food was everywhere, and in Viking fashion, meant for anyone who managed to take it. She snagged a full salmon that was only lightly charred, ignoring the more exotic dishes floating around. Those had to have been made by the Windy Isle people, and she didn't eat food made by people she didn't know. Besides, her stomach felt both light and full at the same time, which was probably nerves. No matter how much she tried to ignore the time, every hour that passed made it a little worse. Fishlegs had better show up soon. He and Gobber were cutting it far too close.

Though... she didn't see him or Gobber here, at the very least. She might have lost it if they were partying instead of finishing the tail. She wouldn't be here if she had it.

To be fair, she wouldn't be here if she had anything better to do than wait. She didn't really care for parties, not like this. Small gatherings, sure, but massive throngs just made her feel exposed and in danger. Anyone could sneak up behind her.

She turned, half-convinced Snotlout was right behind her, but there was just a somewhat weedy old man from the Windy Isle tribe, talking to the woman to his right.

This kind of thing made her paranoid. She would be glad when it was over.

A small hubbub broke out at the front of the open space. Someone stepped forward-

Snotlout. He was everywhere today, it felt like. She could see Tuffnut lurking in the background, alongside several other teens, mostly boys. She was glad she had him to keep track of that.

But what was Snotlout doing? He cleared his throat, attracting the attention of absolutely nobody. There was a familiar parchment in his hand...

Hadn't he said he was writing a speech? This must be it. His idea of a speech was not going to be very eloquent; this was Snotlout, after all. She had been mildly surprised to know he _could _read and write.

"Friends and visitors," Snotlout yelled at the top of his lungs. _That _got him some attention, if only because it was a weird thing for anyone to yell. "I have, as heir, been asked to give a speech."

At least he sounded somewhat formal. That had to be either Spitelout or Stoick's doing.

"Get on wid it then!" an old woman yelled right back.

"I am!" He took a moment to calm down. "Today is a day of remaking old ties and forging new ones."

She didn't like the wording of that. If he proposed marriage to her, she was going to break his ego and then face, even if she knew for sure her parents would refuse it.

But he didn't continue in that direction. "And I know I am not who some of you may have been expecting. My cousin died in a tragic accident, and I have been raised to the position of heir. It is my hope that our... uhh..."

How in the world was he faltering there, of all places?

"Right." He laughed confidently. "It is my hope that our comradery will continue through the years to come, as long as I am Chief. Long may both Berk and the Windy Isle prosper and die glorious deaths in battle!"

That got the applause he was probably hoping for. Everyone cheered for death in battle, if nothing else. All in all, it was a speech befitting Snotlout. Short, blunt, self-centered, and pretty simple. He hadn't done that badly, but she was pretty sure nobody would be able to remember more than the general idea as soon as tomorrow morning. It was forgettable.

After a moment, Snotlout slipped back into the crowd. Soon afterward, music began to be audible over the crowd, probably coming from a few Vikings in a corner somewhere, playing whatever instruments they knew. It was time to dance, if anyone wanted to.

There were plenty of takers. The area in the middle soon filled with dancing Vikings. Some of them looked pretty ridiculous, but nobody cared. There were also a few dreamy-eyed couples, young and old, dancing slowly despite the upbeat music.

Snotlout probably thought she would be doing the same with him. As if she would _ever _let that happen. Now seemed like a good time to leave. Fishlegs could find her at her hut. If he wasn't already looking for her...

She spent a few minutes slowly making her way around the Great Hall. No, he wasn't somehow already in here. He could still be-

A hand grabbed her arm. "Time to dance."

She did not hesitate in breaking Snotlout's grip and slipping away, making use of a small opening between two portly men who were far too drunk to notice. There were too many people in close quarters for her to strike at Snotlout without hitting someone else in the process, so she had to settle for getting away.

He was getting bolder and bolder with every failed attempt. Had there been a time in which she had questioned the possibility of him being this vile? She felt naive for ever underestimating him. At least he didn't seem to be using his cronies to catch her in the crowd. There were too many people around for that to go unnoticed.

She made her way to the exit, slipping out into the just-as-crowded area in front of the Great Hall, where everyone who couldn't fit inside was partying. At least out here there was a little more space to move.

She stuck to her plan and checked this crowd as well, looking for Fishlegs' distinctive combination of bulk and no will to use it. He would be a constantly apologizing still spot in the always-moving throng, clearly visible from a distance.

But he was not here, either. Could he and Gobber still be working, even now? It was long after sunset. Maybe they would be the ones pulling an all-nighter.

Or maybe Fishlegs was out looking for her even now, and she had missed him. Maybe the saddle and tailfin were done. She made her way into the darkened and empty village, intent on checking that possibility. If they were still working, she would have to just go home, get some rest, and break down the door to the forge in the morning.

The village really was empty right now. She was not used to there being so few people about. Aside from the night watchmen, Berk had quite a few night-adapted warriors, men and women who slept until noon every day and did not go to bed until after midnight. Years of raids had taught those warriors that it was best to be alert and awake in the early night hours, and it was a good defensive tactic. Those Vikings would usually be lingering around the village, on the lookout for trouble of any kind, like an unofficial guard force. But tonight, they were all up at the Great Hall. The actual guards felt sparse without their unofficial counterparts.

Then again, everyone was at the Great Hall, which presumably included troublemakers and drunks, meaning the night watch only had the very unlikely scenario of a raid occurring to watch for.

Astrid made it to the forge without incident only to see that it was very much still active, light shining under the door. She could hear two sets of tired yet frantic voices. Gobber and Fishlegs were still working.

So much for that. She made her way home, resigned to only having the morning to prepare. It was a good thing all they needed to learn was gliding, and maybe flying up to get some height for said gliding. Anything more would be an impossible task with so little practice.

She had expected to be the only one home. Her mother and father would not leave the festivities early, and were likely enjoying the less disrespectful treatment keeping things secret was affording them.

But in retrospect, she should have expected Helga and Vanna to already be back. Younger children would not find much to do in the Great Hall, and people were only going to get rowdier and drunker as time wore on. It was not a place for little kids.

Both Helga and Vanna were in her room, presumably putting Vanna to bed. Astrid went about her own business without interacting with them, not wanting them to feel like they were imposing. Helga might not like her, but she did not want to be rude.

Eventually, Vanna was settled in. Helga lifted the girl's coat, looking around for somewhere to put it.

"You can put it up there," Astrid offered, pointing to the shelf set into the wall... the one littered with her various weapons deemed too dangerous to keep within reach of a child. "I'll clear a space."

She shifted the weapons to one side, but that put some of them on top of the drawings, and she didn't want to damage those. She pulled the drawings down, holding them in one hand while she moved the weapons with the other. "Here."

Helga set Vanna's coat down in the empty space. "Thank you."

All of that did leave Astrid with the issue of where to put the drawings. She did _not _want to leave the fragile parchment within reach of a young child. That was asking to have it chewed up, torn, or otherwise ruined. But she only had the one shelf, and the chest with the rest of Hiccup's parchments was covered in other things, meaning it would be a huge hassle to get to it and put the drawings inside.

She had no idea where else to put them. Maybe she could stick them up on top of one of the cabinets in the main room-

"What are those of?" Helga asked, getting a good look at one of the drawings. "They are very, very good."

Well, she could tell the truth here. She passed the one of Toothless sleeping to Helga. "They are good, but I didn't draw them."

"This is a dragon?" Helga asked skeptically. "It does not look much like any I know."

"I guess," Astrid responded noncommittally. "Hiccup drew a lot of strange things. It could just be from his imagination." or it could be a real thing. Speaking in hypotheticals made this easy.

"The... dead heir?" It seemed Helga recognized the name. "Why did he give you these, then?"

"He didn't. I needed something from his things, and I took these too." It wasn't really stealing, given what they were depicting, but it kind of was at the same time. She didn't care; nobody would ever miss them if only she and Hiccup knew they existed. Well, now Helga too.

"Odd," Helga summarized, handing the picture back. "Were you and the Chief's son close? I know a little of disapproving parents, so I will not tell anyone if you were."

Astrid felt her face heat up. "No, not at all. But we had something in common, and I think he would have wanted me to have these." She needed to end this conversation before it went somewhere she could not weasel her way out of without arousing suspicion. She did not want to be the one to fail to keep her own secret.

"Well... he was a good artist." Helga seemed as uncomfortable as she was with the conversation. "My condolences." With that, she slipped out of the room.

Why would any of this make Helga nervous? Another question with no answer. Hopefully her parents were going to get those answers soon.

Astrid settled down on her makeshift bed of furs in the corner, sticking the picture under a loose floorboard. The hut was dry, and she knew they would be safe there for the time being. Tomorrow she could put them back on the shelf.

Tomorrow she was storming the forge at dawn, because she couldn't wait any longer for that tailfin.

_**Author's Note:**_** Tomorrow for her, a week for all of you. Also, as to why I brought in a Timberjack... well, possible plot and/or symbolic reasons aside, I like the species, and it gets almost no mention. I envision them as loners who range the world (those long wings look good for gliding, and thus long-range flights), seeking new forests to inhabit, and trimming overgrowth in the process, maybe even intentionally burning certain parts of forests. Like natural wildfire-preventers, burning overgrown places in a controlled fashion. The 'why' is a little fuzzy, but if I ever need to explain it in a story, it shouldn't be hard. I don't think I'll get a chance to explore any of that this story.**

** Also, thanks for the reviewer who pointed out how uninspired the first title this chapter had was, and offering a superior alternative. **


	22. New Looks, New Learning

_**Author's Note: **_**Uh, well, this is a first. This chapter is two days late because I totally forgot to post it and only just now noticed. Sorry! Next chapter will be up Monday as normal.**

Astrid bolted upright, alert and focused. She had slept soundly despite her nerves, but the sound of a large fist pounding on her door was enough to end that sleep. She quickly pulled on her heavy coat and left her room. Helga was awake, staring uncertainly at the door.

Astrid pulled the door open to see Fishlegs. "It had better be done," she immediately said.

"It is, come on!" Fishlegs scurried off into the dark. It was after midnight, probably near morning, and Fishlegs had looked exhausted. He and Gobber really had pulled an all-nighter.

"Astrid, what is going on?" Helga asked. "Do your parents know you're leaving in the middle of the night with a boy?"

"The blacksmith finished something I desperately need and have been waiting for, and that boy is his apprentice," Astrid summarized. "I won't be back until tonight, and my parents know that. You can tell them I left. They'll understand." And if they didn't, well, it didn't matter. She wasn't going to come back to the village until it was time for the demonstration, which would be taking place in the same field as the last one.

Astrid hurried out into the dark after Fishlegs, closing the door behind her. She ran, both to preserve warmth and to make haste, quickly catching up to Fishlegs. "It's all done."

"Yes, and we figured out why it kept breaking," Fishlegs relayed proudly. "I figured it out. We were misreading one of the rod lengths, and we had to bend it to make up for that, which made it brittle."

She had a vague idea of what he meant, but all that really mattered was that they had it done. "It won't break."

"Definitely not."

"Good." She let Fishlegs go ahead and enter the forge first. "If it does, that's my life on the line."

"It'll be good, lass," Gobber announced, hearing her last words. He stood in front of glowing coals, his figure silhouetted by the soft glow. "Sorry it's so last-minute, but we got it done in time!"

"Where is it?" She needed to get out to the forest without delay. No breakfast for her as there was no time, and no fish for Toothless, though she had promised to bring some. Something told her he wouldn't mind once he saw all of this.

"Over 'ere, but give me a minute to make this worth the wait," Gobber requested. "First, we got the saddle."

Fishlegs pulled out a sleek saddle, leather dyed black with a few blue accents, and blue trim. It was shaped like the one Toothless had been wearing before, but thinner and more streamlined.

"Slick, quality leather instead o' stolen scraps," Gobber announced, sounding like he was describing the prize for some contest. "Built from Hiccup's designs, with a few small tweaks o' me own. Mostly black, for blendin' in wit' the night. I'm thinkin' ya might wanna to do that at some point. The blue will look black in the dark."

She had noticed that already, seeing as the saddle was partly lying in a shadow. It was a nice feature. "It looks great."

"Glad ye like it." Gobber grinned slyly, motioning for Fishlegs to put the saddle down. "The tailfin was, as ye may know, by far the hardest part. Not much I coulda changed if I wanted to, but it's all the highest possible quality. The actual canvas tail is easily replaceable, so if ye've gotta break somethin', aim for that."

Fishlegs brought out a gleaming array of wires, rods, and blue canvas. He quickly demonstrated where the long end of the wires and rods connected to the saddle, ending in a pedal. That was how she would control it.

"Oy, and I took the chance of modifyin' the connectin' rods a bit. They're telescopin' now, just in case the measurements in his notebook are out o' date."

So if the tail was a different length, she wouldn't need to bring the tail apparatus back to be adjusted. That was good, because she didn't have time to do that.

She liked what she saw. It all looked good. "Is that all? I need to get going."

"No, not at all," Gobber laughed. "Now for the extra bit. I figured if we're goin' for impressive, I might as well get some help from Bjorn the Tanner and go all the way."

Fishlegs began to set out more leather pieces, varied shapes she did not immediately recognize. What was-

Then he set out a traditional Viking facemask, what some tribes wore instead of helmets, a sleek affair of black and blue with slits for eyes and two small horns rising from the top. Now she understood.

"It's insulated, padded, and built for mobility," Gobber said, picking up the helmet. "A helmet, a chestpiece, arm braces, waist, legs, and a black full-body tunic to go under it all. It's light armor, and a lot of it's from Hiccup's sketches."

"But I didn't give you anything like this," she objected, moving over to pick up the chestpiece, the leather and padding heavy but not too heavy. "Or my measurements."

Gobber laughed wholeheartedly at that. "Aye, ye did no such thing. But I had a few more things from Hiccup at me hut, stuff he gave me over the years to look over. That armor is the result of me takin' one o' his suggestions and updatin' it to deal with the cold. I got yer measurements from the tanner. His wife makes those armored skirts you like to wear, and she had what I needed."

That made sense. She hadn't known those measurements were kept afterward.

She absently pulled on the chestpiece, feeling the padding as she slid it over her tunic. "What are its weaknesses?"

"It's light armor. Probably won't stop a spear or stab from a sword. Knives'll slip right through the open spots. But it protects yer vitals from most projectiles. arrows, crossbow bolts, all o' that, and it's light enough to not hamper you fightin' or flyin'." Gobber shrugged. "It was either that or make ye a metal suit that would probably stop the lizard from takin' off, it would be so heavy. That design wasn't one o' his better ideas."

"This is great." She meant it. It was another change, but she liked it. Besides, the insulation took care of a problem she hadn't even considered. It would be freezing up in the air, what with the weather only getting colder every day, and somehow, she didn't think her heavy coat would have cut it. As for her skirt...

She sorted through the leather armor pieces until she found the waist. It was a little like her skirt, except not stiff and not lined with spikes and bird skulls, as well as being colored to fit the rest of the outfit. The tanner, for that was who she assumed had made this part, given Gobber and Fishlegs had no experience making leather armor, had done an amazingly good job.

"Don't ye have a lizard to outfit, lass?" Gobber asked after a few moments. "I'm lookin' forward to seein' what you can do today."

Astrid snapped back to attention. She needed to stop wasting time. She pulled off the chestpiece, using it to carry all the other leather armor pieces, and then flipped the saddle upside-down to set everything in the small depression on the underside. The metal tailfin could go under her arm, and both hands to carrying the saddle and armor.

It was a difficult task to get everything situated, but she did so quickly enough, driven by lack of time to be fast. "Thank you both."

"I'd say don' mention it, but after the trouble we went to, I'll take the thanks," Gobber remarked, putting his hook to his forehead. "Now if ye don't mind, I need a keg o' mead."

Astrid nodded, already maneuvering herself through the doorway. This was going to be quite the walk, especially given she didn't want anyone looking too closely at what she was carrying. Hopefully, she could make it to the forest before dawn. Judging by the grey tint to the sky in the East, she did not have long at all.

She broke into a run once she had gotten the hang of moving with her bulky cargo, jogging through the streets as fast as she could manage. Luckily, the forge was not too far from the forest edge.

She moved through the field with a rising feeling of determination. The next time she saw this field, she would show both Berk and the Windy Isle visitors who she really was. Who she had become, the person she had decided to make herself. Still Astrid at the core, always herself, but nothing like what they thought she or any Viking should be.

* * *

By the time Astrid arrived at Toothless's den, the sun was well above the horizon, and she was cursing her own lack of energy. Who cared if she hadn't gotten enough sleep last night? This was it! The last big push before the payoff.

"Toothless, I have something for the both of us," she announced, hoping he wasn't up and about yet. "Come out here and see it." She dropped the saddle onto the ground, shifting her own armor off of it and flipping it upright. Then she laid the tailfin behind it, in the position it would hold on Toothless.

Toothless walked out of his cave a moment later, looking as groggy as she herself felt. He yawned, showing a pink mouth and many very much present teeth. Then his eyes focused on what she had brought.

There was a moment of silence, a brief time in which Toothless did not comprehend what lay in front of him. Astrid watched his eyes, knowing those were the most direct way to see what he was feeling.

Those black pupils narrowed slightly, before expanding to a size she knew as overjoyed. That was all the warning she got.

Toothless jumped her, licking incessantly and purring all the while. She couldn't see his tail, but she imagined it was wagging furiously, a gesture that she had only rarely seen.

"Off, off," she requested, pushing at his broad neck. He jumped away with a happy warble, and immediately ran to the saddle, nosing it curiously.

"Glad you're excited," she deadpanned, sitting up and wiping the spit off of her face. Disgusting feeling aside, it was far too cold and windy to be wet out here. As it was, she was feeling cold and tired already, and the day was just beginning.

But there was no time to be tired. She stood, walking over to the saddle and now hyperactive Night Fury. "Stand still so I can get this on you." As she spoke, she gestured for stillness.

Toothless saw her hands moving, and after a few more seconds of hyperventilating and jumping about, he calmed down, standing at ease. He knew the drill.

She, on the other hand, did not, but the straps that dangled loosely as she picked up the saddle seemed simple enough. They all had a use, and they all had a matching strap on both sides, indicating she would connect them. The tailfin had its own straps, and Fishlegs had shown her how it would attach to the saddle. It should be easy.

She set the saddle on Toothless's back, placing it where it seemed to fit, the leather hugging his form. The first set of straps went across his broad chest and around his front shoulders... or were those hips? She wasn't sure which. Either way, that was easy enough once she stopped to look and understand why they would go there. They held the saddle in place against sliding back or up. The next set of straps went across his stomach to prevent the saddle from rising up, if that ever happened. Maybe at the top of a dive; she had felt like she was floating up-

No, no thinking about that. She was going to get this on, learn the very basics, and nothing more. It would probably take weeks of training to get to a point where she could even contemplate a dive like what Toothless had tortured her with on that first flight, so there was no reason to be thinking about that yet.

Two more sets of straps went around his backside and tail, to prevent sliding forward, and that was it. The saddle was very minimalist in design. The only loose pieces left did not even seem to connect to anything, including each other, and she suspected they were for her, designed to hook to some part of her new armor and keep her in the saddle. Nice of Hiccup- or maybe Gobber- to include those. She couldn't see using them in battle, when she might have to leap off in an instant for whatever reason, but they would be good for pure flying or aerial combat.

On to the tail. She lifted the metallic contraption-

And a black, asymmetrical tail slapped into it, almost knocking her over. Toothless huffed impatiently.

"Hey, I'm figuring it out as I go, and believe me, I don't want to move any slower than I have to." She quickly strapped the tailfin on, pulling the pedal out to attach to the side of the saddle, sliding into and locking around a slit cut into the leather.

There. She stepped back, admiring her handiwork as Toothless excitedly capered around, turning in circles to get a good look at himself.

He looked nothing like he had looked in the old saddle and tailfin. Where before he had sported a cheap piece of brown leather he now wore pure black with blue trim, the saddle seeming to blend with his back, only distinguished in places by the lack of a scale texture. His tail was now blue and black side by side, with the gleam of iron running back along the tail to the pedal the only real visual sign of technical prowess at work.

He was sleek and dangerous, wearing her colors proudly. This was a sight she had not really thought about on the way over, or at any point before now.

And it was not yet done. Toothless nosed at the leftover leather and black tunic, looking up at her expectantly.

"Mind if I borrow your cave?" She had no desire to change out in the open. The wind would be terrible. She gave the sign for go, then indicated herself and the mouth of his cave, just to be sure he knew she was asking permission first.

He nodded impatiently, bouncing in place with excitement. She didn't bother replying to that, gathering her armor and moving into the confines of his cave, quickly changing over. The black tunic was almost shamefully form-fitting, but it was supposed to be, and it was quite warm for how thin it was. The rest of the armor was the actual clothing, so to speak, and it covered all of the important areas.

It was a little odd to be wearing armor at all, much less a full body suit that was custom-made for her, but she liked it. On went the chest and waist, followed by the leg guards and shoulder pads, and then the arm braces. She stuck the shell she always kept with her into its respective arm brace, noting that it fit quite well, being so flat. She wouldn't notice it there, either. Her ax fit into a new loop on her waist, sitting as it had been made to fit.

Then, helmet under her arm, she stepped back out into the open, leaving her normal clothing in a bundle at the back of Toothless's den. She could come get it later. No animal was suicidal enough to enter a Night Fury's cave, so it would all still be there, undisturbed.

Toothless openly stared at her new attire for a moment, before rumbling in what she thought was approval.

She held up the facemask, looking it over in the filtered sunlight. It was a helmet as well as a mask, if a stylized one. A thin faceplate that seemed to flip up was connected to the actual helmet portion of the design, the main body of the helmet entirely pitch black. The color came in at the front, inside the slits for her eyes and breathing, the slightest hint of blue in the interior of the cuts, bleeding out ever so slightly.

How had Gobber known what a Night Fury looked like when it was about to fire? The blue glow looked just like this.

Maybe he had just gotten lucky. It wasn't perfect; the eyes had the same blue trim, not green, and Toothless had no real horns, while this mask had two small metal spikes jutting from the top. It was great nonetheless, the perfect blend of dragon and Viking inspiration.

She turned to look at Toothless, holding the helmet up and imagining herself on his back, with her ax in hand, descending from the sky...

"Gods. I'll look like some horrible monster," she remarked. If she had seen this descend upon the village in a raid, she would have actually feared it... assuming the warrior on the dragon's back lived up to the truly fearsome image she projected. She would, in that scenario, have still attacked it, but this was a look to strike true terror into the enemy.

But they were just following the theme. She had to live up to her mount's reputation, and he to hers, or at least the one she wanted to create. She had left her mark on him, and with this armor, he had definitely left his mark on her. She would have to thank Gobber for unintentionally making that truth visible to all who looked. The symbolism definitely didn't bother her, either; she definitely wanted to flaunt what she was now, with all of this. Riding in wearing her old battle attire would have felt wrong, now that she had seen this.

Her old clothing was that of a Berkian who killed dragons. This was that of a rider who wanted one specific dragon dead.

Astrid shook her head, realizing that she was either procrastinating or just tired, and put all of that out of her mind. She put the helmet on, noting that the slits were wider than she had thought. Visibility wouldn't actually be much of an issue with this on...

But for the moment, she needed her full range of sight, so she took it off again and set it on her waist, noting that even this had been planned out in advance, the helmet's top having a subtle loop she could secure to the other side of her waist, leaving it firmly attached to her armor.

There. No more stalling. She nodded seriously to Toothless, making the gesture for up as well as the one that put it into the context of a question, or in this case a request.

He answered by way of leaning to the side, offering an easy way onto the saddle. She carefully climbed on, noting that it might be easier to leap on in the future, and settled into the subtle depression that was meant for her.

This felt different. She had to think for a moment to understand why, but it came soon enough. The last time she had ridden Toothless, she had sat behind Hiccup. She was feeling the fact that she was sitting where intended this time around, in a saddle made for one.

She sent up a brief request to the gods, closing her eyes to concentrate. This needed to work. To die here would be to waste so much potential. Any small help the gods could give would be appreciated, especially given where she was going. Ascending to the sky of her own will was something only one other person had ever done. She was not the trailblazer, but she was the first to follow.

Her boot slid into the pedal almost of its own accord, a metallic click informing her she had the right position.

She tilted the pedal a bit and looked back. The tail flared open, only going about halfway. Further experimentation showed her the full possible range of motion. There were several other positions the tail could take, from entirely closed to fully flared, six in all.

Six different possibilities, and from what she had seen from Hiccup, she would need to use them all, switching constantly. This was going to be rough.

The only thing that gave her real hope for today's goal was that she knew how to glide. Hiccup had not moved his foot at all in their glide beneath the clouds, and she had looked back, seeing the tail fully flared. Gliding would be simple.

Getting into the air might be less so. "Toothless, we need to go up, but I don't know how," she admitted. "Can you show me which position works?"

Toothless looked back at her, and then at his tail.

She put the false tailfin through its full range of motion while gesturing the signal for a question. What did she need to do?

He got the message. The real side of the tail shifted, clearly demonstrating a position she could emulate.

She carefully set the false side into the position that most closely mirrored his end.

In response, he tilted his head up and barked softly. That was what she needed to do to go up.

Then the tail shifted again. She copied it, and he told her that was how they went to the left.

He was showing her the controls, or at least the basics. Had he done this with Hiccup? Or did he only know what to show her because Hiccup had been forced to figure it out by trial and error?

Either way, Hiccup had clearly gotten all of this down to reflex. She would need to do the same, eventually. Today...

"We need to go up, and then glide," she relayed, hoping he was getting this. "Just that. We can learn the rest later."

Toothless flared his wings, crouching dramatically. He was ready to go.

"Odin, please let all of this work," Astrid said almost desperately. Her heart was in her chest, and they hadn't even left the ground yet. She was half sure she was more nervous about this than she had been about taking her first ride! She shifted her foot, setting the tailfin into the position for up.

Toothless leaped upward, pushing off of the ground with all four legs and the base of his tail, only missing the canopy because they had been standing in the clearing, and flapped. They kept moving up, his wings pumping regularly now.

Yes, this was definitely scarier than anything she had ever done. They were only moving up, but she felt the fact that she was responsible for both of their lives down in her bones. The fear whispered to her that if they died, if a creature of the sky perished from falling, it would be her failure that was to blame.

She worked through that fear, determined to prove her own doubts wrong. Once they were well above the trees, but not so high as to be clearly visible from the village, she patted the back of Toothless's neck. "Gliding now."

She shifted the pedal to glide, and Toothless reacted accordingly. Suddenly they were not going up, but forward, slowly enough in the beginning. Trees passed below them, ever so slowly approaching as they lost height, sliding by faster and faster.

That was it. They were done. This was the bare minimum, easily achieved. They could just fly up high enough to glide all the way to the field when it was time for the demonstration. Mission accomplished, lesson learned.

So, for the moment, she savored the feeling of being ready. Of knowing that she had mastered all that had been requested of her. Toothless would cooperate in the demonstration, and in truth would be ordering her around as much as she did him, if more subtly. They had already worked out all of that and practiced it enough that she did not expect any complications. This was flight covered, so they could make an entrance. Stoick had promised to prepare the crowd for this, so she expected no trouble from the spectators, but she was also ready to deal with that if needed. Anything short of all-out attack from multiple enemies could be easily curtailed. There was no more to practice, no more to figure out or learn. Just this moment, gliding in the wind, approaching the trees.

Toothless lightly slapped her hands with one of his ears, nodding significantly down at the approaching trees, and then looking back at her. What did she want to do?

Actually... they could not land here; she did not want to know how much a Night Fury's scales protected him and not her if they descended through the canopy.

Well, they may as well go a little higher. As Toothless was still looking back at her, she made the gesture for up, and then the one for go, along with pointing out over the ocean. They would be less likely to be spotted out there, and the beach was a good place to land.

Once she saw Toothless pull his wings up to ascend, she set the tailfin in the correct position. She was going to have to get good at reading his body movements; she needed to be both fast and accurate to respond to his actions, and it was becoming clear that up here, she would not be able to direct them in more than vague, probably spoken terms. There just wouldn't be time for step-by-step walkthroughs here.

Still, they got going in the right direction with no problem, now that they were on the same page. They were gliding faster now, the treetops streaking by in a monotonous blur of green and brown. The air was bitingly cold up here, though they were not all that high.

She did not feel quite comfortable enough to take her arms off of the saddle, even with the connecting cords preventing her from totally falling off if she slipped, but if she had she would have put her helmet on to see if it cut the wind. Her armor and undertunic did a fantastic job of keeping her warm up here, because both were designed for the Winter that was on the verge of beginning. It was just luck that she was probably going to need this insulation year-round anyway.

Then they were out over the sea. She shivered, looking down with trepidation. Sure, in her mind it was safer than being over unforgiving land, but in her gut she dreaded deep water. It didn't help that she knew Toothless probably wasn't as at home in the water as the air and would likely struggle to make it to land if they went too far out. Best to stay close to home for the time being.

Toothless dipped to one side, not telling her to do anything different, and they banked in a large circle to the side of his natural fin. She guessed that to turn the other way she would have to partially pull in her tailfin, but to turn that way required no change on her part, which was likely why he picked it.

They soared closer to the water, gliding above the waves. Ahead of them, Astrid saw signs of a school of fish, telltale streaks of grey all centered around one spot in the water. They were headed right for it.

As they approached, Toothless inhaled and fired on the spot, an explosion of spray erupting in the midst of the fish, some of which were actually thrown out of the water by the force of the blast. Several more floated to the surface, stunned or dead.

That was what he was going for, clearly. Night Furies did eat fish out in the wild after all. They passed above the easy prey floating only a few feet below-

And that was where it all almost went wrong. Toothless dipped, snagging a fish, clearly forgetting Astrid's role in the process, and skimmed the water.

Astrid, panicked, immediately flicked the tail into the position for going straight up, hoping Toothless would understand. But Toothless was clearly planning some other method of recovering, because he powered forward instead, throwing himself off and into a spiral aimed only slightly up.

Astrid forced herself to think and react quickly, adrenaline sharpening her reflexes. She slammed the tailfin back into the fully open position, praying Toothless would level out.

He did, almost immediately. They were once again gliding, though they were dropping a little faster now.

That might be a side effect of the fact that Toothless had corrected their course into a glide just a little too soon- or maybe she had triggered the tail too soon, forcing him to correct immediately. Whoever was at fault, the fact remained, they were now gliding upside-down over the water.

Now Astrid was very, very thankful that all of this equipment was so well-made and brand new. Now would be a horrible time for any of the straps holding her to the saddle, or the saddle to Toothless, to fray and break. She was at a complete loss as to how to fix this.

Luckily, Toothless seemed to be far less concerned. He almost causally dropped a little closer to the water, flipping them back rightside-up in the process, and then very deliberately raised his wings to ascend.

Astrid chuckled guiltily, her heart still racing, and set the tailfin correctly, letting him bring them up out of danger.

"No more fishing today?" she requested quietly.

Toothless looked back at her, and then down at his empty claws. He must have dropped it during the struggle to regain control. He groaned mournfully.

"We can go hunting to pass the time until the demonstration," she offered, wanting nothing more than to get out of the air as soon as possible. "Take us back to the clearing. I think that's enough for today."

A pang of guilt made her continue. "And sorry, that one was my fault."

Toothless crooned consolingly and turned in almost a full circle to angle them at the clearing without forcing her to adjust the tail. He sympathized, it seemed.

Flight, real flight, was going to require a whole new set of prompts, and all the learning would be on her side of things. Astrid made sure to watch Toothless's wings and neck carefully as he approached the cove, looking for a telltale sign that he wanted to descend.

She saw it, a hitch in how he flapped and shifted the tailfin before he could request it. This was doable, even if it would take a lot of practice. She would really need to get used to understanding his every movement beneath her, because looking at his wings in the middle of an actual flight clearly wasn't how Hiccup had done it. There was more she would be able to use.

All to hopefully come close to matching what was natural. Astrid knew quite distinctly that Toothless would be able to put even her best efforts to shame if he had both tailfins. All of this was just trying to come close.

She slid from the saddle as soon as she could detach the safety cords, her legs shaking as she hit solid ground once more.

Toothless turned to watch her, his eyes concerned. He was worried about how she would react to that entire ordeal now that it was over.

That made sense. She was his ticket to the sky, where he belonged. If she swore off of it, she was grounding him once more.

She forced a smile onto her face, and affectionately tousled his frills, scratching behind his ears. "We need to get really good up there, so expect a lot more close calls in the future," she announced, being sure to let him know she was not put off by this particular incident. "I'm going to learn as fast as I can. Now let's go hunting."

At that reassurance his entire demeanor brightened, and he slunk off into the woods without a second thought, glancing back to be sure she was following.

Hopefully they could catch something for him before it was time to go. If not, she vowed anew to bring him the biggest fish she could find in the storehouses as soon as possible. He had earned it just by putting up with her lack of experience losing him a meal just then.

Then she followed him into the woods, putting the coming demonstration out of her mind for just a little while. There was no more to do except to wait and then act.

_**Author's Note: **_**Yeah, I went all-out with Astrid and Toothless's ensemble. The demonstration for a neighboring tribe was the perfect motivation for Gobber to do it, and I wanted to get them kitted out sooner rather than later. I may draw them together at some point, as I can see it in my mind, and have some little skill with such things.**

**As for the resemblances to Hiccup's various flightsuits... I tried to make it feel like something Hiccup inspired, but Gobber updated, creating a hybrid between what Hiccup would make and what a typical Viking would envision. The thing is though, from here on out it's not really going to change or evolve that much, unlike Hiccup's stuff in canon. This is pretty much Astrid's final look, more or less. She and Gobber are not innovators who will never be satisfied with what they have, constantly improving and changing things.**


	23. Showing Off

From up high, the Vikings of both tribes looked like insignificant gnats, swarming around the edge of the field. Metallic gnats, mostly, because the majority of them were wearing helmets, but still gnats.

It was comforting to see them like this, and to know that their opinions did not matter. Not to Astrid, anyway. She would not care if they despised her all the more for what she was about to show them, and she would not care if they applauded her in some freak miracle of circumstance. Both had to be equally unimportant.

Stoick had told her to come once the field had spectators, so whatever preparation he had done had already happened. He was ready. She was trusting him and Thunderguts to hold their people back.

She did not like putting her trust in Thunderguts. Even trusting Stoick to keep the Berk Vikings under control for this was a stretch. Last time she had relied upon shock and awe to keep them inactive for the brief time she needed. This time, the demonstration would be far longer and more complex. It had to be, as Stoick had requested not only flight, but more battle-ready skills. She and Toothless knew what to do, but their routine was not short by any means, and relied upon not being seriously interrupted.

Jeers they could ignore, but crazed Vikings attacking en masse would be a problem. Even more so, because she would be totally in charge of taking down any attackers. She could not and would not use Toothless against any Viking today. That would only make things worse, causing the very disaster they needed to avert.

Toothless rose above the trees, gaining height. They had launched from the clearing, so it would be a long glide. From here, they were probably just an ominous black dot in the sky.

Astrid carefully put on her helmet, flipping the facemask down. The slits offered a more than adequate range of vision for this, and she planned to flip up the mask portion of the helmet once they had made their entrance. There might have been some small benefit to not showing her face... But only if she intended to hide what she was from the Windy Isle Vikings. She did not, so she would show her face and flaunt all of this. She would not be shamed by this; there was nothing to be ashamed of, no matter what they might think.

Toothless flattened his wings for a moment, throwing them slightly off course, and Astrid belatedly remembered to switch the tailfin into gliding mode. That was really going to take a lot of practice in the future.

It would be another minute or so before they reached the field, gliding as they were. She savored one last moment of peace, glad the sun was not out, hidden behind one particularly dense cloud. Really, she was surprised Stoick hadn't wanted this done later in the day, at dusk or after nightfall. She and Toothless would be even more intimidating in the dark.

But maybe he just wanted to be sure their visitors got a good idea of what they were showing off. Broad daylight, however muted and diffused, meant everyone would get a good, long look at the dragon that would reveal itself to be a Night Fury.

That was something that would be a shock for everyone, not just the Windy Isle Vikings. Tuffnut had never even guessed as to Toothless's species, and aside from Stoick, only Fishlegs and her own parents knew. But the roar and blue blasts of fire would be pretty obvious hints to anyone who had ever cowered in fear at the cry of 'Night Fury, get down!' Not that she meant to give those hints away too quickly...

They were getting close now. Astrid carefully unhooked the safety lines, attaching them to the saddle on both ends to prevent them from dangling. She would not fall off in their simple descent, and having to unhook herself would not be at all impressive.

If she had been able to practice for a few days, she might have attempted to stand upright on the saddle as they descended, or maybe tried to somersault off as he landed. But she had no time to practice any of that, and the only thing worse than being seen to have safety precautions would be getting hurt in the process of showing off.

They soared over the field and Toothless hiked his wings up, preparing to descend. Astrid flipped the pedal one final time, letting them down. They touched down without a sound, the soft ground cushioning any force Toothless hadn't countered with one final flap just as they made contact. The grass rippled outward like a wave from where they landed.

Another ripple was spreading among the waiting crowd a few hundred paces away, one of a much less benign nature. Grey metal caught her eye as weapons were brought out, and faint exclamations were already reaching her ears. She was grateful for the distance; there would be time to react.

"Oy!" Thunderguts called out, his voice more than strong enough to reach her, though she could see he wasn't speaking to her at all, glaring at his own people. "Shu' up and let our 'osts explain!"

Stoick stepped forward, out in front of the crowd. He gestured widely with his hands and said something long and clearly unsatisfactory to the majority of the visitors.

Toothless snorted worriedly as the crowd began to churn, men and women striking at each other.

"This is going well," Astrid observed as she dismounted, not as worried as her friend was. Toothless probably couldn't tell that the ones fighting were Berkians disarming Windy Isle Vikings, as he wouldn't recognize any of the former. She didn't know what had been said, but the way Thunderguts was glaring at the crowd, standing right beside Stoick, she knew it wasn't a real fight. They were just taking out the most malcontent now, before anything could happen. She had yet to see any major amount of blood spilled.

It _was _almost awkward, though, standing there just out of easy shouting distance, watching the unrest and not stepping in or trying to calm it. There were so many hateful glares cast her way, some staring past her and others landing firmly on her, including her in their murderous intent. That those glaring were all disarmed and sullen made them no less worrying.

"I'm going to have to watch my back after this," she admitted to Toothless. That was always going to be the case, but now it was extremely clear how careful she would need to be. The people of Berk hadn't taken it nearly so badly, possibly because they had weeks to grow accustomed to the idea before actually seeing it.

The disarming struggle was over quickly, especially once more obedient Windy Isle Vikings joined the Berkians in subduing the crowd. Soon, both Chieftains were turning to watch her and Toothless. Stoick waved his hand impatiently.

"Showtime," Astrid murmured, sliding down off the saddle, drawing her ax in the process. She flipped the faceplate of her helmet up and stared defiantly out at the crowd for a moment. Let them see who she was if they hadn't already been told. That information was never going to remain secret past this moment; it was too obvious, even for Vikings, to be missed.

But she _really _shouldn't be musing about her secrets right now. They had a job to do. Toothless rumbled calmly, clearly ready to get this over with.

First, they turned to face each other. She gestured for battle ready, and he hopped back, flaring his wings and snarling, teeth bared. She had decided against any sort of false commands or yelled orders, so they worked in silence. They were far enough away from the crowd that it didn't matter. Nobody could be sure she _wasn't _calling out commands too quietly for them to hear, and if that was what the average Viking needed to believe to accept this, she would let them.

Toothless flicked his front paws and nodded, signalling the same request at her in turn. She deliberately turned her back on him, holding her ax up in a ready position. The real importance of this was one no Viking could miss. She was putting her weakest point directly in front of a dragon who was by all appearances ready to kill, and remaining unharmed.

There was a ripple of shock through the watching Vikings, and a lot of uncertainty. Good. Any emotion other than rage or bloodlust was an improvement.

She put her other hand behind her back and gestured for Toothless to relax.

He warbled happily, padding up behind her to nuzzle her side. She put her unoccupied hand on top of his head, still staring out at that crowd. At Thunderguts, for a moment, making eye contact. He was watching with full attention, his hands empty, not even at the ready in case of an attack, his sword hilt unattended. He liked what he was seeing, for sure, which was good, as he was the person she most needed to gain the approval of. That took some of the pressure off.

On to more complicated things. She made the gestures without thought, and reacted almost as soon as Toothless made his. Really, at this point they could probably do it without any gestures, they had practiced often enough, but there was no need to add memory to the difficulty of this.

First, movement, the most basic of things. She put Toothless through his paces, showing running, sneaking, and walking, and he put her through hers afterward, though they disguised it as her moving to rejoin him. Fair, but there was no reason to ruin the image they were projecting. She did not look at all impressive sneaking in an open field. He did, by virtue of being a panther-like black dragon. She believed he could actually ambush someone in an open field if he had need. He was fast enough to stay in their blind spot if they were not alert.

Then on to fighting. Toothless showed off just how fast and deadly he was, demonstrating biting, clawing and even a quick tail-whip, all on the open air. Astrid moved alongside him, attacking the empty space in tandem with her ax. This moment always gave her shivers, because it was so easy to imagine tearing some lesser foe apart like this, side by side. There was something about fighting alongside a natural predator that made her feel, if not inadequate, then thoroughly matched in skill and speed, at best. Even attacking nothing brought on the feeling that could best be described as 'I'm glad we're on the same side.'

There was more to physical attacking after that. She turned to face him and performed the gesture that, looking back, had been their first. A slapping motion in his direction.

Tuffnut had suggested this for the first demonstration, but there had been no time. Now she had time, the rapt and decidedly nonviolent attention of the crowd, and far more practice with their little pattern, which devolved into actual play-fighting past a certain point.

Slap, block, block, hop, a step back, a jab forward followed by leaning to one side. After that, nothing was the same.

Today, Toothless was not going all out, but he was making it look quite the opposite, using grand, sweeping strikes that gave her just enough room to react in time. When he was trying, she lost quickly. With this, she held on for a while, ducking, dodging, and occasionally lashing out.

If there was any point in the demonstration that signified trust on both sides, it was when Toothless finally caught her, biting down on her arm as she punched at his nose. They both froze.

Then she laughed, sliding her arm out of the now decidedly harmless grip he had placed it in. He could have taken the limb to the elbow, and the entire fight up to the point had been with bared teeth. What better way to show trust?

There was no applause. That was far too much to ask from Vikings. Cheering their natural enemy, no matter how unnatural it was acting, was beyond them. Astrid took the lack of angry shouts, insults, or sharp projectiles as applause enough.

But they were not yet done. Now came tactics, of which very little could actually be shown. She gestured for Toothless to circle around, sneaking, and they showed a play-by-play of how she and Toothless could circle around and attack from both sides, meeting in the middle of the invisible circle he had traced while she walked forward.

She hoped that would give some people pause about going after either of them in the future. Every Viking in the audience had to be imagining themselves either involved in the flanking maneuver, in which case good on them, or being the target of it. If they were imagining themselves as the target, there was no way they would ever go into the woods without plenty of backup… Which was exactly what Astrid wanted. Large groups of hunters clustered together would be easily avoided or taken out if that was necessary. Spreading out to systematically hunt through the forest would be the real threat, if things went bad, and this little trick was probably doing good work in preventing that very possibility. Vikings might like glory and death in battle, but there was little of either to be found in being torn apart from behind in a split second. Nobody would call that battle. That was a slaughter.

Of course, it was also dishonorable to attack from behind, but Toothless was a dragon, and thus had no consideration for honor, and Astrid was almost as ambivalent at this point. She would do whatever was best for herself and those she cared for. Honor played little to no part in that. Her own conscience was good enough at keeping her from doing truly bad things.

After the flanking maneuver and a few more simple demonstrations of tactical planning, they were pretty much done. Astrid scratched Toothless under the chin, avoiding the spot that for some reason knocked him out, and endured a lick to the face. They were done with the actual demonstration. Now came the hard part.

She gestured for Toothless to stay but remain alert, also conveying that he was to flee rather than attack if someone approached. That took a few seconds to get across, but he nodded and gestured acceptance once she was done.

That taken care of, she approached the crowd, walking into easy hearing distance, leaving Toothless in the field, a dark presence lurking behind her.

"So," she shouted, "any questions?"

It took a second for that offer to sink in, but the crowd quickly caught on, and people began yelling out anything they could think of, totally drowning each other out. There were slurs, insults, and angry accusations, but those were easy to tune out and quickly silenced by others in the crowd. That was unexpected, but extremely helpful. She probably had Stoick to thank for it.

She waited patiently until they all figured out she wasn't answering any of them. Once they had mostly shut up, which took a long time even by Viking standards, she continued. "One at a time." Serious, patient, but taking no nonsense. That was the impression she was hoping they were getting.

"Shut it!" Thunderguts yelled, punctuating his helpful intervention with a not-so-helpful belch. Great. She had been hoping to avoid all proof of the origin of the name 'Windy Isle', and had been doing well so far.

No matter. "Actually, Chief Thunderguts, if you have anything to ask, you may as well go first," she offered. Hopefully his question would be helpful in conveying his evident approval a little more openly.

"Aye, sure. Ye didn't fly much. Why?" It seemed like a serious question and not a taunt, and better still, he wasn't asking anything like 'how can ye betray yer tribe like this?'

"That takes practice and time, and I've had little of either," she answered candidly. "We can fly, but it requires more from my side of things than you might expect."

"I've got one," Stoick boomed. "I requested a demonstration of fire, too."

"Oh, that? I was waiting until someone asked the most obvious question of all."

"Which is?" Stoick prompted.

Astrid turned to the crowd. "Anyone want to guess? It's a really simple question that I'm sure is bothering plenty of you." She knew she probably sounded condescending, but nobody would care in a few moments.

"How are ye so calm with the beast?" someone ventured.

"No, fire won't help answer that," Astrid deflected, not sure what she would have actually said in response to that. There was not hiding herself, and then there was openly flaunting the Viking way. She didn't want to do the latter if she could avoid it.

"What is it?" Fishlegs asked, his voice recognizable.

Astrid nodded in his direction, thankful he had decided to move things along, especially as they both knew he already knew the answer. "Exactly. None of you know what kind of dragon this is, do you?"

There was an uneasy muttering at that question. Maybe most of them hadn't thought to wonder after all. Sloppy. She would at least have expected those who were against all of this to ask in preparation for hopefully fighting and killing him at some point.

"Fire will answer that question," she announced, turning her back on the crowd. She caught Toothless's eye and gestured for up and fire. Best not to risk him setting anything ablaze.

He nodded agreeably and inhaled, his mouth glowing a faint blue. This part definitely would have been more impressive at night.

There was no whining shriek of doom. That must not come from firing on the ground, because she had heard a short, quiet version of the signature sound on their near-disastrous attempt at fishing earlier.

But the blue bolt that detonated high in the air above him was more than enough on its own. True, pure silence fell over the crowd, devoid of even the usual muttering and whispering any gathering seemed to have.

Astrid decided to take advantage of that. "Yes," she said loudly and clearly, her voice ringing out unmuddled by any other sounds, "he is a Night Fury." She shrugged, acting as if it did not matter, which it really didn't. At least, not to her.

"The same one that attacks our villages?" someone called out angrily.

"I do not know if he is the same one," she replied calmly. She hadn't seen any others in the nest, but that wasn't proof of anything. "But I do know he has not been involved in the raids for at least two months. So, was there a Night Fury in the last raid?" She knew Windy Isle had taken on the raid that Berk had not gotten, and she was genuinely curious.

"No, no Furies," a bitter old man gritted. "So this one's the one who blows up all of our ballistae!"

Not good, but she had an answer. "No longer. His days of raiding to feed what resides at the nest are over, and something tells me he's happy with that." That was a hook, one she wasn't sure would work. It all depended on what Stoick had told them all of the nest, if anything.

Nobody caught her reference, or maybe they just had more pressing concerns. A young woman near the front of the crowd almost fearfully raised her hand, a silent request to be heard.

Astrid pointed to her. "You, with the manners." Maybe if she praised that, others would do it. A small chance, given the temperament of those all around her, but still.

"How did you do it?" the woman asked, her voice growing clearer as she continued, gaining confidence. "We fight them, not… this. What did you do?"

So what, exactly, had Stoick told this tribe? Nothing but 'we have something cool to show you, don't attack it?' She had assumed he would tell the story of her and Hiccup's disappearance, and what followed, and lead from there. She was going to have to find out from someone after all of this, if only to know whether her Chief had set her up for failure.

As to the answer... she decided on the truth, but in a way that would hopefully prevent pointless deaths. "I don't know. I was not the one to tame him. I'm just the one he chose to trust after his original trainer died." She didn't know if Stoick wanted his son kept out of this, but tough luck if so. He should have told her beforehand if so. "Hiccup, the late heir, would be able to answer that. But he told no one and left no notes on whatever happened between the two of them, so all we have is the result."

She specifically did not mention the tailfin, and would not reveal the full truth even if asked. The blue fin could probably be mistaken for dye, like Viking war paint, at least from this distance, and the rest was subtle. She would not reveal Toothless's greatest weakness if she could avoid it.

Toothless had been waiting patiently long enough. Astrid turned to him once more and conveyed her thanks, along with requesting he go back into the woods.

Toothless nodded and darted away, quickly disappearing entirely.

"And that," Astrid announced, "is why nobody goes into the woods for the time being. Best to avoid any accidents, from either party." She phrased it neutrally enough that nobody would take offense. "I can take more questions later, but that's all for the moment." She hadn't eaten yet today, though Toothless had gotten a small sow in their hunt. She still planned to take him a big fish anyway.

With that, she began to make her way into the crowd, headed for the Great Hall and food, ignoring the danger all around her. She had to know what to expect, and forcing her way through a crowd of people was safer than being ambushed. If anyone was going to attack her, they would do it here, where everyone else could intervene.

The feeling of moving through potentially hostile territory, aware that she was in danger but unsure of how those around her would act, was surprisingly familiar. The entire ordeal on the nest was just a long, drawn-out version of this. The same feeling of waiting to see whether she would be attacked or ignored. The same familiarity and unpredictability mixed together.

Several boots were stuck in her way, trying to trip her up. She ignored them. Glares and muttered insults could also be ignored. If that was all that would be done, she could count herself lucky-

Even as she thought that, a shove from the side knocked her into a fat woman to her left. She kept to her feet more out of luck than skill, and turned to face the woman who had pushed her.

Dark brown eyes lurked deep in a flabby face contorted by rage. The woman didn't say anything, raising a fist to strike again.

A hand caught that fist and pulled it back. "I though' my word as Chief meant somethin'," Thunderguts drawled. "I say nobody touches 'er or the dragon. Ye wanna argue?"

"No, Chief," the woman conceded, stepping back, though there was nowhere for her to go. She had to shove a few slimmer Vikings aside to make room.

"Ye wanna dishonor our tribe by strikin' an ally for nothin'?" he continued.

"That cursed dragon killed our people!" the woman complained, glaring at Astrid.

"Doesn' matter," Thunderguts retorted loudly. "We'll be 'avin' words later." He looked over at Astrid. "Any o' mine bother you, come to me. I'll set 'em straight."

Astrid nodded, not all that reassured, and resumed her walk. She was glad the foreign Chief seemed to be taking it all so well, but something told her not to trust his reassurance.

His intimidating words _did _seem to dissuade anyone else from attacking her, though. She made it through the rest of the crowd without so much as being bumped by accident, the Windy Isle Vikings backing up out of her way.

Thunderguts certainly had a reputation for disciplining his people, she mused, if this reaction was any indication. He was smart, too. She had no doubt he had followed behind and waited for the first person to act; the timing was too perfect for it to be coincidence.

The Great Hall was almost empty when Astrid arrived, which made sense as most of the village and their visitors had been out watching her demonstration. She picked up a mug of watered-down ale and a slab of mutton from Mulch, who was manning the back of the Hall.

"Did it go well?" Mulch asked curiously. "You look ready for a fight."

"It went fine," she said, gesturing to her armor. "This protected me from the cold more than anything else." Really, it _had _gone fine, relatively speaking. She hadn't been hurt, Toothless was safe, and the other tribe had been handled by their Chief, who seemed very supportive.

She returned to near the front of the Hall, not wanting to be too far from the exit, and sat down, thankful the twins had cleaned up the disgusting buildup from under the tables. She would not have wanted to eat here if she had known of it before it was removed.

As she ate, people began filing into the Hall, seeking food. Many stared at her as they passed. Whether the stare was disbelieving, curious, or disgusted depended on the Viking, though disbelieving seemed to be the majority, followed by disgusted. Curious was an outlier, one she mostly saw on children whose mothers or fathers kept them from approaching her.

She did not like being considered a bad influence or danger to children, but it was inevitable for the time being. Maybe once the shock had worn off...

No, she would be realistic. The days of children looking up to her were gone, never to return. She would just have to get used to that.

Then one mother-daughter pair Astrid had forgotten about entered the Great Hall. Astrid had never actually seen Vanna wide awake, so seeing the little girl pulling at her mother's hand and hopping excitedly was new. The girl was pointing, too, just like all of the other children.

Helga looked over at Astrid, and indecision was clearly visible in the way she hesitated.

Astrid wasn't sure what Helga would decide. She wouldn't really be able to avoid Astrid in any case, given they shared a small hut, and Vanna was going to get to her sooner or later...

It wasn't a big surprise when Helga sighed and let Vanna run over, but it was a welcome one. Here, at the very least, was one mother who would let her child come near.

Vanna plopped herself onto the bench directly opposite Astrid, staring with wide eyes. Blue eyes, Astrid was now able to determine. Again, common enough, though brown was even more common among the Windy Isle Vikings, from what she had seen. "You're Astrid," she asserted.

At least Vanna knew her name. "And you're Vanna. You're sharing my room." Astrid looked to the side and saw Helga standing in a short line, waiting for food. She would be a moment.

"You have a dragon," Vanna stated, her voice admiring. "Mom says they're dangerous."

"They are, but mine's different," Astrid admitted. "He's nice if you're nice to him." Telling any older Viking that would not go over well, but Vanna was still young and did not have any fears or prejudices ingrained yet.

"Does he have a name?" Vanna asked curiously.

"Don't tell anyone, but yes." Astrid made a show of looking around to be sure they were alone. "He's called Toothless."

"Toothless," Vanna shrieked, almost falling off the bench, laughing hysterically.

It wasn't that funny... but apparently it was to her. Astrid waited until the laughter had died away. "He can pull his teeth in, so it fit, I think." She assumed that was how he had been named. It was possible, if unlikely, that Hiccup had called him Toothless in reference to his lack of violent inclinations, but the literal interpretation seemed more likely.

"What's so funny, Vanna?" Helga asked, sliding over to sit by her daughter, having just come from the front of the line, two plates of fish in hand.

"The dragon's name," Vanna giggled, ignoring the food. "It's so silly."

Helga cast Astrid an indecipherable look, now addressing her. "It has a name?"

"Yes, though I was not the one to give the name," Astrid said. "And now I'm thinking..."

"A lot of what I saw last night makes far more sense," Helga continued, clearly understanding. "You have a dangerous common interest."

"That interest has saved my life multiple times, so maybe not as dangerous as you think," Astrid countered. "That reminds me. How did my Chief set up the demonstration?" Helga was as good a person to ask as any.

"Everyone gathered in the Great Hall, and your Chief announced that Berk had a new innovation in the war against dragons, something strange but powerful. He told us to follow him out to the field to see it... and that was pretty much it." Helga shrugged. "I would have liked a little more warning. If I was not stuck in the crowd, I would have taken Vanna and ran when you and the dragon arrived."

"Would you run now?" Astrid asked, surprised by her candor. "Knowing what you do?"

"Maybe I would not run," Helga admitted, "but I would not be comfortable anywhere near it. I do not see how you do it."

"Trust," Astrid explained. "Before any of this, I spent weeks alone with him, stuck on a raft no bigger than absolutely necessary to carry a tiny sail, me, a container of water, and his head. We were marooned together, and we had to work together to survive. Fear came and went on that raft, for both of us." And a new fear, the fear of deep water, had sunk into her so deep she thought she would never be rid of it. That was not important to the story, so she did not mention it.

"Maybe I can see that working, if it did not kill you immediately," Helga admitted. "And your Chief let you keep it?"

"With a lot of conditions, yes." She had always suspected it was partially out of grief and affection for anything of Hiccup's, but now he definitely let her continue what she did on its own merits.

"It stays out in the woods, right?" Helga asked, sounding nervous.

"Of course." In an ideal world maybe she would have him living near her hut, but definitely not with the way things were. "He would not attack as long as you do not wield a weapon or threaten me. And even if you did, he would just disarm you... and depending on what you were doing, possibly teach you a lesson." She could not lie and say he was harmless. Snotlout was the perfect proof to the contrary.

"I wanna pet him," Vanna announced, done with her fish and ready to continue talking. "Can I?"

Helga flinched at that request. "That doesn't sound safe, Vanna."

"Daddy would have let me," Vanna objected sadly. "He would make it safe."

Helga didn't seem to know how to respond to that. After a moment, she settled for pulling her daughter close, hugging her. "Maybe he would have."

Astrid did not have a lot of experience comforting people with lost loved ones. That was her mother's area of experience. But she could help Helga out here. "I can assure you, it would be safe, but I don't think I want to take any chances." She was totally confident Toothless would behave, but bringing a little kid into contact with a dragon was just asking for trouble. Vanna would of course talk about it, and if word got around... she didn't want to think of how badly people could misinterpret that.

"Of course." Helga began to pick at her food, not really eating it.

Astrid saw movement towards them over Helga's shoulder. Her immediate thought was that it had better not be Snotlout. He was not the kind of person who should spend any time around impressionable little kids.

But it actually turned out to be her parents, who had spotted her and Helga. Neither had food, so they either weren't here for that or hadn't gone to get it yet.

"Nice work today, Astrid," her father praised.

"Sorry for keeping you in the dark, Helga," her mother added. "We were all under orders not to talk about it."

"I can see why," Helga reassured her. "It is an interesting thing that your daughter does."

"That it is," Astrid's mother agreed neutrally. "It is good to see you taking it so well. Do you happen to know if any other Windy Isle families might not mind it? The fact that Astrid has trained dragons, not the dragon itself."

Well, that was pretty obvious. Asa was fishing for leads on which families she should check for eligible men. Hopefully, Helga wouldn't have anything to give her.

Helga clearly didn't understand the significance of the question. "Possibly. I do not know most of them well enough to be able to say for sure. I can find out?"

"If you would." Asa smiled thankfully. "That would be helpful." She and Sighvat left to go get food.

Astrid finished her mutton, not feeling all that hungry. She hoped the search would be entirely fruitless. It was out of her hands, though.

All of this was, now. She had to wait and find out whether or not they would be assaulting the nest, she had to wait and hope her parents found no willing matches for her... and she had to wait for everything that would follow. Her part in all of this had been more or less played out.

Was there anything more she could do to affect events? Not that she knew of. All she could do was train with Toothless, getting used to real flight in preparation for the attack on the nest...

Or...

Hiccup had spoken of taking a vacation, a permanent one. Developing her skills in the air could make that a final possibility for her, too.

Would she really do that? Just fly away with Toothless, to avoid marriage?

Well... she wouldn't have to leave permanently, but her parents would not be happy with her, so returning to visit would be difficult. She had nowhere to go, but Toothless could probably provide for the both of them if needed.

She did not want to abandon Berk. That was the biggest problem. She could come back to her parents, however displeased they might be, but once she left Berk, there was no fixing that. Not if she really left with no excuse. The Chief would not permit her to leave if he knew. No sane Viking would. So, leaving would break her from her home.

No, she wasn't going to leave. But having that last resort made her wonder, made her think. She was not, in the end, stuck here. It was something to at least consider.


	24. Confidence or Possibly Hubris

Nightfall. The torches were lit, and Astrid was lingering in the Great Hall, watching whoever came in. She had met up with Toothless and given him the biggest fish she could find in the storehouse, but she had not lingered long there. There was a feeling of anticipation in the air. Nobody had seen Stoick or Thunderguts since the demonstration, which implied they were finally discussing the attack on the nest. Would Thunderguts go for it?

In favor of the attack was superior information about the target, specialized forces, and stubbornness mixed with a lack of patience. They knew, more or less, what was at the nest, and getting there would not be difficult, even without Toothless directly leading the way. They knew now that the nest was in the center of the massive fog bank. Assuming they could make it through, it should not be hard to find.

Making it through, which meant sailing through waves of dragon attacks, was why nobody else had ever seen the nest. Nobody got far enough in.

But they had two tribes, nine ballistae, and stubbornness issues.

Against the proposal was the obvious. Winter was coming. If they left any later than a week from today, they would have no chance of even getting to the nest before the water froze around them. If they left tonight, they would not be able to return. She knew first-hand how barren the nest was; Stoick had to have an answer to how they would survive even if they won, because as it was the elements and lack of water would kill any who survived the assault, no matter how successful.

Assuming Stoick had a plan for that, there was also the absolutely absurd scale of the monstrosity. Any beast that could swallow a Zippleback whole was going to be an issue. A big issue. The ballistae were hypothetically the answer to that, but Astrid had her doubts. Maybe that would work.

And of course, there would also be the hordes of unwilling servants that would assault them every step of the way. This would be a slaughter either way.

Sound objections, all in all. But the problem was, Astrid didn't see a Viking Chief backing down at either of the latter two, and the former was such a fundamental issue Stoick had to have an answer ready. It was entirely possible Thunderguts would-

A loud, flatulent eruption echoed across the Great Hall. Astrid held in a groan, breathing entirely through her mouth and hoping it would not reach her. It seemed her luck had finally given out when it came to avoiding that particular pastime of the Windy Isle tribe. Hopefully, judging by the one proud Viking sitting alone, it would not turn into a contest. She didn't want to be driven out of the Great Hall.

What had she been thinking before that? She looked around the Hall, trying to regather her thoughts. There were plenty of people here at the moment, eating, drinking, or arguing. Nobody noticed her in the corner, the same corner she had found Tuffnut in, shrouded by shadow. They might not even see her, given how perfectly dressed she was to hide in darkness. That was how she liked it. Her presence could only disrupt things, given how infamous she was.

The doors to the Great Hall swung open, admitting a group of rowdy Vikings, clearly already drunk. Trailing behind them was Snotlout, along with five teens about his age, all male, and Tuffnut.

Now she was thankful she would not be seen. Snotlout did not look happy, and while she preferred him frustrated to confident, neither meant she wanted to interact with him.

He and his entourage sat at a table somewhat close by, though not close enough for her to be within eavesdropping distance. Snotlout was muttering sullenly, and everyone else was listening closely.

That went on for a worryingly long time. Astrid did not like the looks of it. She probably would have attempted to get closer and listen in if Tuffnut had not been there. As it was, she planned to catch him alone and find out what was going on as soon as possible.

The strangely secretive and ominously serious talk went on for a few more minutes, before Snotlout sent one of his newfound cronies to get mead for them all.

That was no surprise. Astrid only drank watered-down mead, but the rest of the teens were more than fine with the normal stuff. She personally disliked not being in control of herself while drunk, which was why she avoided it.

That dislike, she reflected, was also probably because she worried she would break down and loose some torrent of bottled-up emotion. That would no longer be much of a problem given she did not care what others thought of her, but she still stuck to her habit of not getting drunk.

Drunk, like how Snotlout and company were quickly becoming. They became more and more boisterous and distracted as they drank, none of them old enough to have developed much of a tolerance for what was in their mugs.

Eventually, Tuffnut shambled over in her direction, swaying drunkenly, and plopped himself down in a chair opposite her, staring at the wall beside her.

His voice, despite the appearance he was currently holding, was alert and solemn. "Trouble is coming. He has no solid plan, but if he and his gang catch you alone, you're going to have to hit first and ask questions later. I won't be able to warn you ahead of time if that happens."

"He cannot risk-" she began, troubled.

"He doesn't care anymore," Tuffnut revealed. "Opinions about you are conflicted enough that he thinks he'll get away with what he wants. The way he's spinning it, you're not going to be wanted by any man anyway at this rate, so he and his new friends might as well-"

"I get the idea," she growled. "Seriously, though? He said it straight out?"

"Clear as water," Tuffnut confirmed. "He's not fit to be Chief like this. Hel, he's not fit to be a Berkian at all. We have more honor than _that_." His voice was downright murderous. "I will fight by your side if I'm there when they corner you, if it happens, but there's no guarantee I'll be there. It might be seven on one."

Even if Tuffnut fought for her, it would end up being six on two, which was still not good odds. "I appreciate your help."

"At this point, I'd be doing this no matter what," Tuffnut revealed. "Snotlout needs to go, for the good of Berk. With my testimony, we might be able to get him disgraced, or maybe even Outcast."

"Assuming he attacks me," Astrid corrected. "We'd need at least two, ideally more, testimonies to get him. One can always be discredited, especially if it's mine, and you could be just as vulnerable. Neither of us is highly regarded."

"If Ruffnut listened to me, I'd ask her to tail you until the Windy Isle tribe leaves." Tuffnut sighed sadly. "But she won't even talk to me at home, and avoids me whenever she can. Maybe if you asked her yourself."

"Maybe." She did not like the idea of being followed around the village, but it would only be for a few days, and Ruffnut was probably still bored enough to seriously consider the idea, the reason aside.

"And-" Tuffnut began, before being cut off by a slamming sound.

Astrid looked over his shoulder. The doors to the Great Hall had been slammed open, and two imposing figures were entering, side by side. Stoick and Thunderguts. They looked serious.

This was it. She knew before Stoick even opened his mouth. They would not be announcing anything if the plan was not going to happen.

"People of Berk," Stoick began.

"And Windy Isle," Thunderguts added.

"Ready yourselves for battle," Stoick thundered, hoisting his hammer proudly. "We set sail in three days, for the nest!"

There was a ragged, halfhearted cheer. Only one person spoke in actual dissent.

"We'll all die o' dragon, and if we don' the ice'll get us!" Mildew complained, for once voicing real, legitimate concerns.

Stoick laughed scornfully. "You would not give your life to our best chance to rid the archipelago of the nest that has plagued us for seven generations? But do not worry, we have thought of that. Two ships loaded to the brim with survival supplies will follow two days behind us. We will take the nest, and we will occupy it until Spring, or until we can break our way back through the ice to Berk."

That was... ambitious, to say the least. The logistics of getting all of that ready in two- or actually, four days, was going to be immensely complicated. But assuming it could work, that _was_ the question of the ice solved.

"We'll spend the Winter holidays carvin' mugs outa the bones of our enemies," one Viking yelled happily. "And diggin' outhouses on the nest!"

That got everyone excited. Vikings began to stand and unholster their weapons in a show of support.

"We're goin' too," Thunderguts repeated loudly. "Soldiers, prepare for battle! Chief Stoick has agreed to host yer families here, so don't worry abou' that!"

That got the Windy Isle Vikings into the mood. They began to cheer, the idea clearly beginning to appeal to them. The Great Hall grew louder and louder, until it was a cacophony of voices and other noises.

"Well, that's great!" Tuffnut yelled, barely audible though he was only a few feet away. "We're all gonna die before Spring. Sounds awesome!"

"Spread the word," Stoick boomed, somehow loud enough to be clearly audible in the tumult. "Sharpen your weapons! Polish your armor! We leave at noon in two days! The dragons will never know what's coming, and we'll have a Night Fury at our beck and call just to rub it in their scaly faces!"

Astrid felt a strong wave of dread wash over her, even as the Great Hall emptied, Vikings taking their Chief's instructions literally, off to do what he had said. They were going on the offensive.

The offensive nobody had ever succeeded in before. Were they prepared enough? Was this too rushed to work?

It was all out of her hands. She could only watch and worry.

On the bright side, Snotlout's intentions had suddenly become far less dangerous. She only had to avoid him and his posse for two days, and to pick a different ship than him. Then, it was likely the dragon hordes would render him very much dead, given how confident and reckless he was.

She would have to be careful not to pick the same boat as him, though-

Wait, she was bringing Toothless along. Aside from all of the complications that could cause, that also meant she could just change boats at any time if needed. How convenient.

Less convenient was the news that she had two days on Berk and a week above the ocean to practice flight. That was not a lot of time.

So much for being done with deadlines.

* * *

Things were hectic the next day. Astrid walked into the middle of a warzone after returning from an early breakfast at the Great Hall. Weapons and clothing were strewn across the main room, and their visitors were nowhere to be seen. Her father was digging through a box of miscellaneous supplies in one corner of the room, moving frantically.

"Where's my ax polish?" her father yelled, not seeming to actually expect an answer.

"Right in front of you," Asa's voice replied from the other room, the bedroom Astrid's parents shared.

"My backup polish, this stuff is almost gone," Sighvat corrected hurriedly. "Astrid, go buy some more from Gobber." He quickly tossed her a few coins.

"Okay, but..." she trailed off, understanding all of this was in preparation for their departure in a few days. "Got it."

She jogged through the village, wanting to make haste. Everyone seemed to be about as frantic as her parents were. Vikings went about their business at a faster pace than normal, as if aware that every second counted, and every few minutes the streets had to be cleared so that some cart piled high with weapons, or food, or other supplies, could be pushed down to the docks. The village was on edge, everything moving a little faster than normal, as if a drum that had kept time was now speeding up, and they with it.

There was a massive crowd in front of the blacksmith's shop. Astrid shoved her way through to the door, knowing that she could just go in, grab what her father had needed, and leave the money in its place. Gobber would be thankful for one less customer to handle at the rate things seemed to be going.

As she made her way to the ax polish, navigating the literal piles of weapons waiting to be mended or sharpened, she could not help but overhear the frantic conversation between Gobber and Fishlegs.

"Three more spears, do those first!" Gobber yelled, tossing three dull spears Fishlegs' way. "They take less time."

"I know, I know!" Fishlegs said hurriedly, throwing two axes back to Gobber, moving with practiced ease for once. "Gobber, I can't keep up with this!"

"Ye got no choice, laddy! Jus' be glad we're going on the second wave, so we can put off all nonessential orders 'till after these knuckleheads are gone!"

Gobber didn't sound particularly pleased with that. Astrid understood the point in holding the blacksmith back to go with the follow-up ships; he would be needed to make plenty of non-essential supplies for said ships. But he had to hate the fact that he would only reach the nest after the battle was over if they won, or he would die when the dragons came for his ship, if they lost, because his ship would be barely crewed. Neither option was very glorious.

Astrid found what she needed, a tin of polish, and left the money on top of the tin that had been under the one she took, leaving the forge without anyone knowing she had been in there.

She emerged from the forge only to almost be pushed right back inside by a surge in the crowd. Another convoy of carts was coming up the street, this one headed away from the docks.

She shoved forward, wanting to be at the front of the throng when space cleared for them all to move, and caught a good look at what was on the carts.

Three ballistae, disassembled but recognizable because she knew the look of dangerous and complex machinery. The Windy Isle Vikings must be setting the ballista up somewhere.

Why, she had no idea, but if they were going to be testing them, she wanted to be there to see it. Maybe seeing the bolts actually destroy solid rock as had been promised would ease her worries about all of this.

First, though, she had to bring the polish home. Her hut looked no better than it had before, though now Helga was helping her mother and father sort through things, and the three were talking calmly enough. She dropped the polish by the old tin.

Her father looked up from his quest to find some random item at the bottom of yet another box. "Thanks, Astrid."

"Need anything else?" Astrid asked, looking around at the somewhat organized chaos. Hopefully she would not be enlisted to help sort things; she didn't want to be stuck inside today.

"No, go prep your dragon for all of this, if you need to," her father recommended. "Find out from Stoick if you can mark off a part of the deck on one of the ships for it."

That was actually a really good idea. "On it." She darted back outside, feeling the pressure now that she had her own task. How long would it take to find Stoick, get his approval, and pick a spot, along with somehow marking it off? Too long, with the way things were going. She wanted to be on the ship already. All of this was too hectic to bear. Had it been this way on previous nest hunts? No, because those were planned weeks in advance. Aside from that, this was an all-out assault, so every effort was being put into it. There was a calculated risk, and then there was an all or nothing gamble, and this was the latter.

Stoick. Where would the Chief be? Probably down by the docks.

* * *

As it turned out, Stoick was indeed by the docks, busy supervising the loading of Berk's entire fleet, save for the two ships that would be following behind. Said fleet was back to normal after their last attempt at getting to the nest, Berk's carpenters and shipbuilders having had several months to create and outfit three more warships. All in all, five Berkian warships would be sailing to war, along six Windy Isle warships, with two larger, less maneuverable ships following behind. That was a lot of loading to organize. They needed supplies for their entire army for two weeks, just to be safe, along with the essentials for a week-long trip. All of that had to happen in parallel to the aforementioned carpenters going over the ships to be sure they would all make it to the nest in the first place. A surprise leak might sink their chances of success as surely as it sank the ship.

Chief Stoick was in his element, calling out orders and knocking heads as necessary, striding along the deck and somehow watching everything at all times. Astrid almost didn't want to disturb him.

But she did anyway, getting into his line of sight during a lull in his intermittent stream of orders. "Sir, a moment?"

He nodded tersely, looking preoccupied. "Out wit' it."

"My father suggests that you give me permission to mark off a small portion of the deck on one of the ships for my dragon," she relayed, speaking quickly and efficiently. "I will, of course, keep to an area that is not heavily used during normal sailing, but I need your permission-"

"Go ahead, but listen to the sailors, and mark it very clearly," Stoick cut in. "I assume you can keep your animal from attacking anyone within sight?"

"That will be easy. He will not start anything." The real worry was that someone else would start a fight, but she would just combat that by not letting her guard down for a week. She planned to spend the majority of every day flying as much as possible anyway. Any practice they could get might be vital to their survival.

"Then yes, you have my official permission to stake out a reasonable space," Stoick declared. "Send anyone who objects to me so I can set them straight."

That was perfect. "Thank you, sir," she repeated, and set off to find a good spot.

Stoick had not specified a ship, so she had to pick for herself. Not the biggest one, because that was the one Stoick would be taking, and therefore the one Snotlout was most likely to be on, as it was the ship for the leaders of the attack. Not one of the Windy Isle ships, because she did not have permission to use those, and because she was still wary of that tribe and its Chief, in spite of all reason.

She ended up picking the next largest ship, reasoning that more deck space meant she and Toothless would be less of a difficulty and thus less likely to be trouble for the sailors.

One quick surveying of the deck later, and she knew where she would be staking a claim. There was a space behind the small cabin that let down into the bowels of the ship, a spot right at the back. It was mostly out of sight, entirely out of the way, and just big enough to land in if Toothless was careful.

How to mark it was a more difficult question. She had nothing on her that could work, and she wanted it to be very obvious. Maybe a blanket or something?

No, that would get wet and moldy after a few days exposed to the ocean air and constant spray.

But some sort of less vulnerable marking...

She still had quite a bit of blue dye. That might work, if she marked the boards of the deck. She would have to clean it off when all was said and done, but if she survived to that point in time, she wouldn't mind a little cleaning.

The issue with that solution was that it meant she had to go all the way back to her hut to pick up the dye, followed by coming down here yet again, all to draw four lines on the deck of a ship.

She set out again, intent on getting this done as soon as possible. After, she could spend the rest of the day with Toothless, maybe flying, or maybe just relaxing. Either would be good, though she knew which she should be doing, and it wasn't relaxing.

Her plans were derailed when another convoy of ballista parts on carts passed by. Her curiosity would not be sated unless she saw one in action, and knew it to be as strong as it was said to be.

In a moment of spontaneity, she pitched in, helping push the cart with no explanation. The Windy Isle Vikings pushing were too tired out from what was probably their third trip to question her help, though they did look askance at her. That was no surprise; she was distinctive.

She was wearing her armor again today, with her ax and helmet at opposite sides of her waist. The reason was simple; it was the best clothing she had for the cold. The tanner had done a great job at insulating it, and the biting wind made the armor an attractive option, warm and yet also light. It felt like something she might wear in the Summer, which was a welcome change from bulky bundles of furs to combat the cold. She was actually beginning to wonder what the tanner had done to this armor that couldn't be done to normal clothing... and how much Gobber might have paid for it. The old smith certainly went all-out when the mood struck him.

Following the lead of the other cart-pushers, Astrid lent her strength to pushing the ballista parts all the way out to the plaza, and through it, to the hills. There were other carts there, along with several men and women who were finitely assembling ballista, inspecting each piece thoroughly before attaching it to one of several half-built contraptions.

Chief Thunderguts was there too, overseeing the whole process. He seemed to understand the basics of all of this, which was more than Astrid could claim.

From what Astrid could tell, watching from the sidelines, they were going over every part and making sure it was in good condition, and then assembling each ballista to test-fire it. The Windy Isle tribe was good at weapon maintenance, at least at this scale. Gobber would be jealous.

There didn't seem to be any problems at the moment. One of the ballistae was completed even as Astrid watched, aiming at the side of the mountain a few hundred yards away. It was a complex piece of work Astrid did not understand. She only knew it was finished because what seemed to be the slinging part was being cranked back, and a large bolt topped in iron loaded into it.

A test-firing was about to happen. She had gotten here at the right time. She watched closely, trying to envision how this would work at the nest.

First and foremost, they would need to assemble these things in the volcano. There was no other way to aim them at the monstrosity in there. That was going to be tough. But assuming they got that done-

The ballista fired, part of it slamming into the rest with a powerful thunk, propelling a single bolt into the mountainside in an instant, a blur of color streaking across the open space between machine and target.

The bolt stuck into the stone... for about half a foot. The rest vibrated in place.

Astrid was, to put it bluntly, underwhelmed. There was little to no chance that kind of bolt would pierce the monstrosity's lava-hardened scales. They would have to get very, very lucky and hit between scales, or some other similarly vulnerable part... all while the monstrosity either didn't notice them or attacked their very much irreplaceable weaponry... and while the other dragons probably attacked too, swarming every ballista and any other sign of invading life...

She felt sick. This wasn't going to work. But there was absolutely no way she could convince either Chief to listen to reason. They had not been there, and they had not seen what she saw. No matter how accurately she portrayed their target, they would believe it doable, because admitting defeat without trying was not something they could do. Honor and reputation would not let them.

She had no such restraints. She knew this would fail, and she had no trouble admitting it to herself. But this was all going to happen anyway, no matter how many people she told.

They would die, or succeed by some implausible miracle, no matter what she said. She and Toothless would be there, because she could not pass up a chance to strike at the monstrosity. She was pretty sure Toothless would want to be there for much the same reason.

So there was no reason to dwell on this, was there? She forced herself to turn away and go back to her hut, heading in the back door because that was closer to her room, and by taking it she would have to walk through less of the mess her parents had made.

Neither her parents or Helga noticed her, so, she got the jar of dye and left before they could, avoiding being assigned any more small tasks in the meantime. The trip back to the ship was not quick, with the chaos all around, but she made it eventually, and boarded her ship of choice without even being noticed.

Two stripes of blue dye went on the deck from the back rim of the ship to the back of the small cabin she had noted before, marking out a strip of deck that was only a little bigger than Toothless was when fully extended, such as when landing. Two more stripes went down the middle of that rectangle, further marking it as an area, not just two lines.

On a whim, she put the runes for 'landing area' in one corner of the space, just in case somebody wanted to know what it all was for.

There. This place was marked off, and short of physically staying there, she didn't know how else to make it clear that it was spoken for. Now she was free to go visit Toothless.

* * *

By the time she made it to Toothless, she only had an hour before she needed to turn around and go home, which ruled out anything in the way of practicing flying, to her mind. She did not want to work up the nerve to take to the sky only to be done a few minutes later.

Besides, Toothless did not look to be in the mood for a flight, sprawled out on his back in his cave. The only way she knew he was awake was that he had warbled in greeting as she approached.

It was a good thing the saddle was so flat already, otherwise she might be worried he was squishing it with his weight.

Actually, at that, she needed to take it off of him at some point. She knew from experience that one did not wear skintight, or in this case scaletight, leather constantly. It would chafe and grow sore eventually.

She would take it off once they were securely on the boat the morning after tomorrow, if Toothless did not request she remove it sooner. He was fully capable of conveying such a request, so she wasn't too worried about him chewing at the straps in an attempt to remove it himself. He seemed to value it much too highly for that.

So... Toothless was relaxing, she had to go in a few minutes, and the sun would soon set on this penultimate day of preparation.

She had nothing better to do than to lean up against him and close her own eyes for a few minutes, something she would not have done if he was not already setting a good example.

It was nice to have a companion who knew when to relax, but who was also as driven as she was.

* * *

Those few minutes of relaxation left Astrid calm and confident through her entire walk home. That lasted up until about three seconds after she entered the hut. Her parents and Helga were sitting at the table, talking intently, but they all went silent the moment they saw her.

"I'll be in my room," Astrid announced, seeing that they were clearly discussing something she wasn't meant to hear. What that could be, she didn't know, but they would resume talking once she was out of sight…

And she could listen in, because while her parents would trust her to do the honorable, polite thing and ignore them, she was no longer so content to be left out of the loop. Nobody would know if she listened in.

But the moment Astrid opened the door to her room, she realized that wasn't entirely true. Vanna was already there, clearly listening intently.

"Eavesdropping is impolite," Astrid remarked, entirely aware she herself planned to do exactly the same.

"They're talking about daddy," the little girl explained. "I wanna hear."

"You can ask your mom about it later," Astrid offered. "For now, do the right thing and try not to hear them, okay?" It seemed she didn't have to try and overhear them; if they were discussing Helga's late husband, it really had nothing to do with her.

"But I _can_ hear them," Vanna complained, leaning off of the bed to demonstrate, her ear pressed against the wall. "Why not listen?"

"Do you feel good about listening?" Astrid asked, trying a different method of persuasion. "Would your mom be happy to know you did without permission?"

"No..." Vanna admitted, pulling back a little.

"So don't do it. You'll feel better about yourself if you only do what you think is right." There was absolutely no way Astrid was going to be able to convey her own outlook on doing what was right, regardless of what others thought, to a child. But a little push in the right direction would not hurt.

"I'm bored, then," Vanna declared, getting down off of the bed. "If I can't listen."

"How about we do something, then?" She had no idea what, but it would not be hard to come up with some little game. Just another way to while away a few more hours.

There was only so much time left. Whether to doom or victory, her people and Vanna's people sailed the day after tomorrow.

_**Author's Note:**_** In case anyone is wondering, Astrid is going to need a crash course from Gobber in smithing and repair work eventually. She's working with borrowed tools in regards to Toothless's tail, and at the moment their flight is incredibly risky, because if anything breaks, Astrid will have a difficult time fixing it, no matter how trivial it might be. That's probably not going to come into this story (if it was, I wouldn't be saying anything), but I wanted to point it out. Like it or not, Astrid is going to have to learn some basic mechanics. She would probably consider it another survival skill at this point, if it ever occurred to her.**


	25. A Final Day

The sun rose slowly above a scene that it had risen over many times before, though not so often as of late. An ax slammed into a wooden training dummy with perfect accuracy, lodging deeply in the wood where it struck. Astrid smiled grimly.

All was not well, but here at least was one thing that was unerringly positive. Not only had she mastered the new spin this ax tended to fall into, she was throwing with the strength she remembered having prior to her debilitating trip to the nest and subsequent journey home.

Not in her injured arm, though. It was a good thing Toothless had latched onto her left arm, not her right; she was right-handed, and her left arm still quivered whenever she put too much weight on it. She had to assume that time and exercise would fix that too, but at least it was already her non-dominant side.

"Astrid, are you out there?"

"Yes, right here!" Astrid understood why her father hadn't so much as opened the back door to look; it was bone-chillingly cold outside, and he probably wasn't dressed to withstand the weather yet. He would have to go out and help load the ships soon, but not this early in the morning.

"Come inside!"

"Just a second," she responded, jogging over to the training dummy and retrieving her ax, being sure to twist it in the 'wound' in the process. That wasn't strictly necessary, but she was annoyed. Usually, Sighvat gave a reason when he told her to do things, but lately it seemed he had forgotten that courtesy. Once might be excused, but twice was a new pattern forming.

Still, unless she wanted to openly defy him and suffer the consequences, all she could do was grit her teeth, bare it, and wonder what he wanted.

Upon entering the hut, she immediately noticed that both Helga and Asa were seated around the fire. Helga seemed relaxed, but Asa had a look Astrid recognized. She wanted something and intended to get it.

"We were just talking to Helga about the Windy Isle, and I know you wanted to learn more about it," Sighvat explained, giving her a significant look and an almost comically obvious raised eyebrow.

"Yes, I did," she agreed, playing along. It was true anyway, at least in a sense. The more she knew, the better she could plan, and she needed all the help she could get with that.

"Well, it's windy," Helga began. "We have huge tracts of fields and not much in the way of trees, so the wind doesn't stop for much, either."

"Where do you get your wood, if you do not have many trees?" Asa asked curiously.

"There's an island only two days from us that is nothing but untamed forests, so we're fine on that front. Some wild dragons, but that's more of an aid than anything. Young men go out there looking for glory and almost always come back with plenty more wood, if nothing else."

"What kinds of dragons?" Astrid asked, absently sitting on the floor close to the fire to warm herself. She had not thought dragons lived anywhere but the nest, but Helga spoke as if they occupied that island continuously.

"Oh, nothing interesting," Helga quickly clarified. "Just a few Terrors and a Timberjack or two. Nothing like what you have here."

"I'd be more than surprised if you _did _have anything like this," Sighvat said with a smile. "What is the village like?"

"Flat and simple," Helga said neutrally. "We raise sheep and yak, fish, and make do with what we have. Fortune has been kind to us for the last few years… For the most part."

"Yes, we heard you'd been raided in our stead recently," Asa jumped in, filling the silence. "I trust you all gave as good as you got?"

"Always. The ballistae are a huge help," Helga said enthusiastically. "We always bring the livestock to shelter in the same place, and the ballistae are all aimed at the sky above them. We're sure to kill a few every raid, no matter what happens, and dead livestock brought down in a dragon's clutches can still be eaten, so we lose less too."

Astrid didn't say anything in response to that, but she thought she could see the underlying logic that filled in the parts Helga didn't notice. Of course, the dragons would avoid an island that _always _killed some of them and got some of the taken prey back from the bodies, and was further away from the nest too. Windy Isle wasn't raided as regularly because it wasn't as good a target.

That, of course, led her to thinking about Berk, and for the most part ignoring the unimportant questions her mother and father were asking, and Helga answering. If all it took was having a reputation for always killing some of the raiders, why was Berk so consistently targeted?

Her first thought was that Berk _did _consistently kill dragons, but far less consistently got anything back from the raiders, so there was more prey taken anyway. Her second guess would be that since Berkians killed dragons more personally, face to face and often ax to face, the dragons kept coming back partially in hopes of getting vengeance. It would be hard to be mad at a random ballistae if one didn't know enough to know that there was a person operating it.

Then a third, more complicated theory came to mind. Toothless had led raids before encountering Hiccup; everyone knew the Night Fury struck from a distance, was never seen, and never missed. He was also, well, a _Night Fury_. Maybe raids usually centered on Berk because_ they_ didn't have anything capable of shooting back at him. If that was so, it would make sense that they hadn't come back since that raid months ago.

Of course, that was all conjecture, and she knew she'd never get a real answer. Hand signals were well and good, and she thought Toothless understood her very well, but what they had wasn't anywhere close to comprehensive enough for her to ask and get a meaningful, complete answer.

But if it _was _Toothless who had focused the dragons on her home…

Maybe it was better there was no way to know for sure. His days of raiding were over, so it was not a current issue, and as long as she couldn't be sure, there was no reason to blame seven generations of raiding on him, or however many he had been alive for. She didn't _want _to hate him for that, so even if it was his fault, she'd probably blame the monstrosity forcing the raids to happen in the first place, anyway.

"Astrid, are you still with us?"

Astrid looked up at her mother. "Sorry, I wasn't listening. Could you repeat that?" She could have tried to come up with an excuse for not hearing, but her family didn't really _do _excuses for things like that, so just admitting her lack of attention was both easier and less likely to get her in trouble.

"Don't be rude to our guest," Asa said firmly. "Helga was just talking about the younger people on Windy Isle, and I would think you would be _interested_."

"Yes, interested," Astrid agreed, not really putting much effort into making herself sound enthusiastic. "What about them?"

"I was just saying there is a tribal tradition the young men practice," Helga said hesitantly, perhaps catching on that there was more not being said between Astrid and Asa. "In order to be considered eligible for marriage in the tribe, they have to go out and kill a dragon either on another island or in a raid. It's a point of pride for them to come back with the biggest dragon head they can manage. Just this last raid, a boy named Speedifist brought back a Nadder head bigger than his torso."

Astrid nodded politely, wondering whether Helga was at all considering who she was telling about her tribe's dragon-killing practices. Sure, there was no way to know how Astrid felt about dragons other than hers, but even the most foolhardy of Vikings might think twice about possibly antagonizing her while staying in the same hut.

"How does marriage work past that?" Asa inquired thoughtfully. "That raid was recent. Does he have a wife lined up yet?"

"As far as I know, no, though he does have a girlfriend," Helga said doubtfully. "I think. I pay attention to the children so I know who Vanna is playing with and who their siblings are, but beyond that I don't know much."

"Well, it sounds to me like he is spoken for, even if it is not official yet," Astrid suggested, hoping that her parents would get the hint. Having a husband at all was bad _enough_; they had better not even try to get her roped in with a boy who had his heart set on someone else already. She didn't want anyone, but if they tried, it had better not be that one.

"It really depends on what his parents want," Helga replied, "but yes, probably. It may just be the Chief holding back on officially recognizing the union for one reason or another."

"Your Chief has a say in that?" Astrid asked, genuinely curious now. The way Berk did it, unless the union was off-island or between someone in line for the throne, Stoick had little to no say. The most he could do if he disapproved of a marriage was not bless it, and that would be a grave insult to both families.

"Chief Thunderguts has a very hands-on approach," Helga explained. "He has a hand in everything, from marriage to innovation and blacksmithing. He likes to do things differently if they're more effective that way."

Astrid noticed the way Helga was nervously rubbing her hands together; she didn't think her parents did, but she couldn't help it after so much time spent training herself to recognize gestures with Toothless. This one didn't mean anything specific, of course, but she was pretty sure something was making Helga nervous, or at least wary.

"Different ways like your island's ballistae?" Sighvat asked.

"Like those. My husband was one of his advisors, and he always told me Thunderguts liked any idea that would help the tribe…" She shrugged her shoulders. "I think he would be happy to have something like what your daughter does, if it was possible, but I suppose that is a carefully guarded secret. He always looks for every advantage."

"It's a secret from me, too," Astrid reminded Helga, sure she had said as much the day before. "Hiccup knew what he did, but he was the only one who knew." She was going to have to avoid Thunderguts from now on; he could easily put her in a bad spot by pressuring her for answers she genuinely didn't have. Most Vikings didn't like being told no, and he had a lot of power.

"So, I remember you saying," Helga agreed. "We've spoken much of my home, but what of yours? What does your island pride itself on? I take it this thing with a tame dragon is new."

"We're at the forefront of raids and take most of the attacks," Sighvat said proudly, rising from the table. "Though I suppose we'll need a new specialty once this trip is over. Who knows what the future will bring?"

"I do," Asa said, standing with him. "A lot of loading ships and cursing, if I remember the last nest hunt. Astrid, your help will be needed."

"On it," Astrid sighed, standing and heading for the door. Something was bothering her about Helga, something unimportant and small, but she wasn't going to figure it out now. Maybe if she spent some time lifting boxes it would come to her.

* * *

Astrid found something unexpected in the next few hours, rolling barrels, lifting crates, and pushing carts, pitching in around the docks and the fleet frantically loading up and preparing.

"Thanks lass," one of the men in charge of coordinating it all said as she rolled a barrel of salted Herring up the gangplank. "There're three more like tha' one on the far side o' the village. Go get 'em."

It wasn't until she was already jogging through the crowded streets that she thought about that. He had sent her to bring heavy barrels of fish and saltwater through the entire village, and he had sent her alone. Because no Viking ever admitted weakness, the ones in charge were supposed to send enough men to handle the job, thus preventing failure via overconfidence or refusal to admit weakness.

Of course, he had no way of knowing she wouldn't really care anymore, and _would _ask for help, but that was kind of the point. He didn't know, and he had sent her alone anyway, meaning some random Viking she barely knew in passing thought she could handle it.

Three barrels weren't a small task; she would have to grab a cart and push it all the way back, mostly downhill, which was harder because if it got away from her she would cause a lot of trouble. He trusted her to be able to handle it.

That, in turn, got her thinking about it. She _could _handle it, if how she felt was any indication. She wasn't weak.

She wasn't weak. She stopped in the middle of the street and pulled back the wrappings on her good arm, taking a long, close look at the wiry, firm muscles there. There were a few small marks across her otherwise pale and unblemished skin, small cuts and scrapes, already scabbing over, from the last few days from running in the forest with Toothless. From her daily routine, the extensive workout she had gotten down to habit so thoroughly as to not think about it. From rebuilding her strength. From all the hours spent accustoming herself to her new ax and its unique weight.

She broke into a run once more, covering her arm back up as she went, a smile across her face. Sometime in the last few weeks, she had recovered. It had been a gradual thing, but if today's work was any indication, she was almost done. She was back to the shape she had been in before, aside from her bad arm.

And in some ways, she thought to herself as she dodged around the many obstructions moving in the opposite direction to her, she was better than before. She was faster, for sure, and better at moving stealthily, thanks to hunting with Toothless. One did not often hunt with a Night Fury without being shamed into developing adequate skill at moving unheard. She thought her reflexes might be better now too, though that was not something she could really prove. Tiny, almost insignificant changes, but changes nonetheless.

She turned a corner and saw what looked to be a moving wall approaching her, and slowed to a walk once more. It was actually four women carrying a log as long as the street was wide, walking side by side without a care in the world. They weren't blocking much; everyone was moving at the same speed, and almost nobody was trying to go the other way. There were a few teens walking behind the log too, acting busy while not helping at all, something she might have corrected in the past. Now, she didn't really care. Someone else would catch them, and she had no authority to set them straight.

The fact remained that she didn't want to try passing them, not with them carrying the log at a very inconvenient height and going down a hill. If she tried to jump it and failed, the recovered body she was currently feeling so proud of would have another pointless injury to cope with, and right before the trip to what would be the fight of her life. Jumping the log was something one of the twins would have done back before they split up, stupid and pointlessly risky, almost begging bad fortune to strike.

There were more paths to where she was going than just this one, so she wasn't too bothered, simply slipping into a narrow corridor between buildings and considering her revised route. There were not so many easy paths up to the other side of the village, and she could really only go one way, currently close to the cliffs…

A thought struck her, and she looked around. Of course, she didn't recognize the alley, it was one of scores throughout the village, and not at all interesting on its own, a quiet corridor of wood, like a hallway without a roof. But if she was right about where she was…

A quick walk down to the suspiciously open end of the alleyway gave her an answer to her unspoken question. This was one of the huts on the edge of one of Berk's many cliffs. The alley terminated in a steep, rocky slope that promised to break one's neck if one tried to climb it, and then a narrow beach far below. In event of an invasion by sea by another tribe, this ledge would be stocked with logs, ready to be dropped on the shore below at the right moment. She could see the ships being readied at the docks, and if she squinted, she could make out a tiny thread of blue on one of the decks, the place she had staked out the day before.

This was a nice view. Not as nice as seeing it all from Toothless's back would be, but she had not seen the docks like that yet, and until then this was the best way to get a dragon's-eye view.

Well, a bird's-eye view. They didn't really use dragons in their sayings unless it was with the connotation of evil or otherwise bad qualities. Hungry as a dragon was out, but greedy as a dragon was not, for instance. Such oddly specific ways of doing things. It was almost laughable, how eager Vikings, or at least the Vikings of Berk, were to distance themselves from their mortal foes, like they were eager to prove they didn't admire their enemies in the slightest. No insignias involving dragons unless said dragons were dying, no sayings unless they were negative, and so on.

She laughed to herself, looking out at the fleet. They were going to have to rethink that eventually, if only because it looked ridiculous once one thought about it. Almost like an entire tribe of Snotlouts posturing and trying to convince everyone, including himself.

Snotlout. Wasn't there something she was supposed to be doing in regards to him?

Getting Ruffnut to follow her.

Not going into empty areas.

Not being alone, outside where anyone could find her.

Listening to Tuffnut's warning.

She had not been thinking of danger here, despite the very real danger Snotlout presented. She had not been paying attention to her surroundings, wrapped up in her own thoughts. Those teens behind the log had not looked familiar, but they had all seen her, and they had all been of a certain age, from the Windy Isle tribe.

She had been careless, and she knew that her luck had finally run out. This was one mistake too many. Snotlout would be looking for her, knowing as well as she did that this was the last day he had on Berk with his cronies. He would be ignoring the consequences of his actions, for many different reasons. They might all die in a week, he was heir, he was in the better position to be believed if it came down to words.

He was angry, frustrated, and out of control. She had let his cronies see her, and then gone into a dead end and lingered there.

She began to turn, hoping that she was wrong, or that she could at least leave the dead end before she could be trapped. But the corner of her eye caught several presences darkening the previously light mouth of the alley, and she knew she was right. Her luck had run out.

Hit first, ask questions later. Tuffnut had advised that, and she was willing to go as far as necessary to get out of this dead end. But while that was the way of the Viking, it might not be the best way. Another had occurred to her.

She drew her ax, looking back out at the docks as if unaware of their presence. Then she put her helmet on, flipping the facemask down. Peripheral vision would be useless here anyway; to her sides were only wooden walls. No attack would come from the sides. She valued head protection more than seeing irrelevant things.

She turned, seeing them directly. Snotlout, and four burly young men from the Windy Isle tribe. Tuffnut wasn't there. Maybe he had gotten unlucky in his timing, or maybe Snotlout didn't want any witnesses from his own tribe. The latter was more likely, now that she thought about it. The Windy Isle teens would be out of Stoick's jurisdiction, and unlikely to be charged by their own Chief without proof from their own tribe.

In short, she was on her own. No witnesses who would be listened to, against the most influential teen on the island, with her own tattered reputation to boot.

She smiled coldly, entirely unamused. They would not see it under the facemask anyway. "One chance. Turn around and leave. I will not hold this against you if you do. Now." The other answer was to bluff, to try and scare them. Vikings weren't supposed to be afraid of anything, but she thought she knew a few cracks in that façade, now. Cracks that she could strike at before it all really came to blows.

One of the teens faltered, his neutral expression dropping into something a little less confident.

Snotlout flicked his sword in that teen's direction without even looking. "Don't even think about it."

"Think about it," Astrid countered, flipping her ax in her hand, meeting the teen's eyes. "I know your face, now. I know all of your faces. There will be no hiding in a crowd, and I might even follow you home. I don't need a dragon to travel, and I don't need a dragon to kill. He just makes things easier." Much easier. She was ignoring Tuffnut's advice, because intimidation was a weapon in and of itself, one she could not use once things got violent. If she could tip the odds even a little more away from Snotlout's side, she would without hesitation.

"As if you would-" Snotlout sneered.

She cut him off by taking a step forward. "Kill? Stab someone in their sleep, or just in broad daylight, or maybe make it last a little longer than that?" She could be as vicious as she wanted with these threats, because nobody involved except her would want to reveal them and by association the context. "I've left customs behind before, and my reputation is already ashes. Give me a reason, and I'll drop everything else, too. You won't even be able to catch me afterward." She pointed her ax at Snotlout. "But I don't have a reason yet. The offer goes for you too. Leave now, and I'll do my best to forget this moment."

"Your stupid dragon isn't here _now_," Snotlout gritted. "And I still think you're full of hot air." He was too far gone to listen to reason, or even self-preservation. Or maybe he just didn't think she could follow through.

"Anyone else? Last chance." She moved her ax to point at each in turn, slowly threatening each personally. The teen who had faltered before was last to be threatened. He broke, turning and running before anyone could stop him.

One less to fight. Now it was four on one.

She nodded. "One of you wants to live. No other takers?" Her heart was cold. She did not plan to kill them here, but if they succeeded in what they intended...

She was not really bluffing if it came to that. She would hunt them down, one by one, no matter how long it took. That was not honor, or reputation, or duty, that was justice and revenge, plain and simple. If the law would not punish them out of lack of evidence or will, she would, and she would make it permanent in order to stop them from doing it again to someone else in the future. She was uniquely positioned to do so and survive, meaning she could get them all in time.

They had to know this. That it was feasible, if not whether or not she was willing to do it. But only one had chosen the smart way out. The rest hefted their weapons and began to advance behind Snotlout, blocking the only way out.

Two swords, a mace, and a pair of short knives. Her armor would not entirely protect her. Gobber's warning made that clear. She was cornered and outnumbered.

That made her dangerous. She spared one more moment for planning. The swords were the worst danger at range, but the knives would be bad close up. Snotlout was leading the attack with a sword, and the rest were behind him. Knives to the left, sword to the right, and mace in the center.

They didn't want her dead. They just wanted her defeated, ideally restrained or knocked unconscious. She was going to have to be wary of the mace wielder; he likely had orders to aim exclusively for the latter.

Those were the win conditions. Snotlout won if he could disarm and pin her, or have her knocked out. She won if she was the last one standing, or if she could somehow get past them and out into the open.

Her anger simmered below the surface, and pushed her towards the former option. They attacked, so they would pay the price. But her practicality pushed for her to hit a weak point and get out before they had a chance to get at her.

Weak point. Which one was the weakest? Snotlout and the mace wielder were out, because the latter was behind the former. No quick strikes would take both out before anyone else could react. The sword wielder, on the other hand, could be easily overwhelmed close up, while the knife wielder was the opposite, assuming he did not know how to throw his weapons. She knew how and _could _respond in kind or strike preemptively, but that was a strike with the intent of killing the target, and throwing her weapon away besides.

And then she was out of time for planning. She had to break through, or break them all. Either would work.

She charged them, her ax ready to strike and if need be to kill. No holds barred here. She could not afford to hold back.

First came Snotlout, with a slash aimed at her ax. She sidestepped and lashed out with her free hand, scoring a hit on his face. She continued forward, having chosen to take on the one with the sword.

He seemed less inclined to aim for disarming and swung at her head as she neared. She rolled forward and sprang up, ramming her head into his midsection, ideally knocking the wind out of him. It was a move she hadn't practiced in weeks, and she almost messed it up, but didn't actually falter.

He did not fall, which was her first miscalculation. He screamed out, shoving her away. She was not ready for such a nonsensical reaction, having been prepared for an attempted downward stab, and stumbled back, quickly regaining her feet.

The one she had rammed was bleeding, two narrow punctures dripping red from his stomach. The horns. She had forgotten about the metal horns on her helmet. There was no time to regret that, and she had little inclination to anyway. She sprung at the injured teen again, swinging her ax sideways, blunt side first.

A mace blocked her from her intended knockout blow even as the teen brought up his sword and gritted his teeth. Snotlout was behind her, reaching for her. She could not see him, but she could feel the flow of the fight, and she knew him.

No hesitation. She jabbed back with the butt of her ax before slamming her other elbow back, both connecting with sickening crunches. She did not even have the time to turn around and see the damage, thrusting her ax up to block another swipe from the mace-

And in a split-second reaction, to cut at the hand reaching past the mace wielder in an attempt to stab her. Blood coated the edge of her ax as the elongated tips of the weapon cut the top of his hand, a glancing blow. It was enough to make him drop the knife and fall back.

Two down for the moment. She kicked the sword wielder between the legs and quickly pulled her foot back to slam it down at an angle onto the knee of the mace wielder as he swung at her, forcing him down in a strangled scream of agony. A backhand to the throat put him out of commission for the moment, and an ax handle to the forehead did the same for the one who had been using a sword.

Those two were down for good. She spun just in time to block a straight stab from Snotlout, one that would have gone through her back if it had been aimed well enough to slip between the leather of her armor. His eyes were wild and his nose crooked, bleeding heavily.

She could not entirely focus on him. The knife wielder was to her side, probably preparing to strike again. She feinted a slash to the side, and when Snotlout moved to block it, slammed forward, using her clenched fist to disrupt his vision, jabbing at an eye.

He swung his sword around in a weak arc, cutting at the leather of her armguard, and she took the opportunity to attack his other eye, hitting it in turn. Then she jabbed at his throat, and he collapsed like a felled tree.

No time. She spun to face the last teen, who was-

No longer attacking, clutching desperately at his heavily bleeding hand. He was too worried about bleeding out to be an issue, more focused on tearing his own tunic for a makeshift bandage.

She did not strike him, not wanting to doom him to death by bleeding out while unconscious. The others were too lightly injured to be in that kind of danger.

Except for Snotlout, who was rasping on the ground, temporarily blinded, bloodied, and having trouble breathing. He managed a show of stubbornness by swinging his sword in her direction, missing by several feet.

Then he jabbed forward from his sitting position, catching her off-guard, and stabbing right into her chestpiece, the tip of his sword digging into her armor but not piercing it.

She reacted instinctively, pushing forward a little to pin the sword hand and then swinging at the sword's middle, her ax snapping the rigid blade in half, and following up by slamming the same ax's hilt on Snotlout's forehead, sending him down for the count.

It was over; her heart sounded as if it was in her ears, thumping rapidly and drowning everything else out. Her body quivered with restrained urgency, pain and sudden stress. All was still, except for the one teen still frantically tending his hand. She turned to glare at him, knowing he was the only one still conscious.

Should she say something? Well, he had failed to actually do anything worse than attack her, and she had not a single cut or bruise to show for this entire thing...

"Next time I treat you like I treated him," she threatened, pointing to Snotlout. "Make sure nobody dies here, because I won't be helping them." She had no desire to tend to the people who had assisted Snotlout in his vile ambitions.

She left them in that unimportant side corridor, bruised, bleeding, and broken. Some small part of her was inwardly celebrating.

She may not be the same woman who was kidnapped by Hiccup and Toothless, but she was still a warrior, and she was still capable of defending herself. It had been enough, if only barely.

_**Author's Note:**_** As I was writing this confrontation, the outcome changed twice. I cannot tell you (yet) what the first two outcomes were, because that would mean I have to tell you exactly how they differed from what happened, and by extension a few things that have yet to come. But for those who guessed Toothless would intervene, I should say that such a thing was never in the cards for this fight for a variety of reasons, not the least of which that he now lives on the far end of the island, and thus would be unlikely to be anywhere close enough to hear a call for help.**


	26. Future Struggles

As Astrid turned away from the alleyway, she couldn't help but feel relieved. Snotlout had underestimated her, and he had paid the price. Hopefully, two black eyes, a badly broken nose, and likely a headache to go with his very definitely sore throat might make him question the point in trying again. He would definitely not be in top shape for taking on the nest.

Not her fault. His, for cornering her, and for not realizing that she had worked hard to return to her previous fighting shape. All of this was his fault.

Of course, he might not see it that way. Actually, this was Snotlout, he _definitely _wouldn't see it that way, and he might even think to use his injuries to accuse her of attacking him. But if he thought about it for even a moment, he'd realize there was one issue with trying that.

Astrid looked down, reassuring herself that what she had noticed right away was real and there, a safety against the obvious ploy of ruining her with false accusations. There was a distinctive gash in her chestpiece, right above her heart. To anyone who looked, it would obviously be a sword mark, and she knew for a fact that Snotlout's replacement sword had a bit of fancy channeling done, meaning it would leave a distinctive mark, kind of like a footprint. A piercing hole with a channel that would only easily fit one blade.

He had clearly been aiming for her life at that point, and while he could argue for defending himself, it would not ring true when the other four attackers were considered. No dangerous wounds, except for maybe the cut to the hand, which had bled more heavily than anyone would have expected. None of her attackers had died in the attempt.

Not that she would not have killed them if it was necessary, it just hadn't been.

In any case, she would have the weight of actual evidence on her side, as well as common sense. Nobody attacked five armed men out of their own free will, not when they had everything to lose and nothing to gain. She almost hoped he would bring it to trial. This time around, he would be in serious trouble once the real story circulated.

But it would be easiest if he and the other teens just pretended it had not happened. She knew that was what the Windy Isle teens would do. They would be able to leave the island, and none of them would risk her coming after them, as she had promised would happen on reprisal.

All in all, that should be the end of Snotlout's attempts on her, at least until his ego and confidence recovered, which would hopefully take longer than his body to fully heal. He would not have the time, anyway. They left tomorrow at noon.

It was not even noon today. She had the day to herself, and only needed to be home in time for dinner with her parents. As happened so often recently, she had nothing to do, no responsibilities to take care of, and no actual job in the village.

She understood why Ruffnut, as a dedicated warrior with nothing to fight, was so often bored. Luckily, Astrid knew she was not in the same position. She had a friend who would be happy to spend the day with her.

And another that should probably hear what had just happened, actually. Tuffnut deserved to be kept in the loop on his own Snotlout investigation. But where would he be?

Well, if he wasn't with Snotlout, then there was probably a reason. He could be at whatever his job was, or he could be home, preparing for the coming trip.

She decided to check the Thorston residence, mostly because she didn't know what Tuffnut did or where he worked. The Thorston home was a well-known landmark in the village, if one could call a hut most people avoided at all costs a landmark. Maybe that would change now that the twins weren't, well, acting like the twins.

She wasn't actually that far from their home, so she made it there quickly enough, still buzzing with leftover adrenaline from the fight. It made her jumpy, but she didn't mind. It was a sign that she had fought and won.

Nobody answered the door to the Thorston hut for a few seconds. Astrid waited, contemplating where Tuffnut might work. Was he with the carpenters or ship builders, down at the docks? Or was he a fish cleaner despite not liking the work? Or something else? Not a hunter or a dedicated warrior, but that was all she could rule out. There were half a dozen other professions besides the big ones he could have ended up in, such as assisting the tanner or even working with the more intelligent Vikings in charge of trading in the Chief's stead and going on voyages with the intent of trading. Though they rarely had openings, and Fishlegs would have ended up with them if there had been an opening when he was looking for a job.

The door she had mostly given up on swung open. Ruffnut had answered it, looking distinctly annoyed. "Astrid? What do you want?"

"Well," Astrid said quickly, almost tripping over her adrenaline-rushed words, "I need to talk to Tuffnut. It's important."

"I bet," Ruffnut griped. Then she looked Astrid over, and some of her annoyance melted away. "Eh, come on in. He's around here somewhere."

Astrid was not as wary of entering the Thorston household as she might once have been, but that did not mean she was relaxed. She looked around discreetly. Nobody else seemed to be home, even if Ruffnut had said Tuffnut was.

"The rest of the family is out getting our spears repaired," Ruffnut explained. "We wait until the last minute so we can get discounts in return for not bothering Gobber any more."

Astrid sighed, knowing that doing that was only making Gobber's work harder. "It would be easier to just bring them in when they break," she offered, not really expecting to be listened to.

"Maybe, but that's not what we do," Ruffnut agreed absently. "Tuffnut!" she yelled, "get your butt down here!" Then she turned to Astrid, a sly grin on her face. "First time Tuff's ever had a female visitor. Anything I should know?"

"No," Astrid replied with a straight face. Though, as she thought about it, she realized the idea wasn't as laughably ridiculous as it would have been a few months ago. Tuffnut was probably going to attract some small amount of attention once people began to believe he wasn't faking his new demeanor or lack of craziness.

A thumping alerted Astrid to the fact that Tuffnut was above them. She looked up, noticing that there was a boarded-off loft area.

"We keep our stuffed yak and food up there," Ruffnut explained, following Astrid's gaze. "Don't ask me why. Tuff and I aren't... weren't... the only weird ones in the family."

Tuffnut stumbled down a hidden flight of stairs, looking almost like he was walking on the wall, his boots going to steps only barely wider than absolutely necessary. "Who? And since when do I get visitors?"

"Since now, idiot," Ruffnut remarked sourly. "I'm going up to the Great Hall. Be sure to clean up afterward if you do anything mom wouldn't like."

Astrid wasn't entirely sure what Ruffnut meant by that, so she let Ruffnut go without questioning her on it. "Tuffnut..." Now that she was here, she wasn't sure how she wanted to break the news.

Tuffnut looked her over, his eyes narrowing. "So, I wasn't there. Snotlout said he was going to meet us at the Great Hall in the afternoon, and then we'd go looking."

Astrid brandished her ax, now remembering that it was still bloody at the tip. "He _tried_."

"How many casualties?" Tuffnut asked, relaxing. "I assume he failed by the blood-chilling tone of voice."

"No deaths, three unconscious idiots, and one injury that might have been serious if I didn't let the idiot tend to it himself," she recounted. "I scared one off before the fighting started."

"Nice. So, I should _not_ worry about getting to the Great Hall on time?" Tuffnut picked up a half-broken wooden handle from a nearby shelf, swinging it idly. "Because I think I want to be there anyway, just to see the damage. Besides, no way of being sure he's totally out of it yet."

Astrid nodded in agreement. Best to be safe. "We leave tomorrow. There's not much more time for him to do anything."

"Maybe. And you leave tomorrow. I don't get to go," Tuffnut revealed sourly. "I was picked to assist the older carpenters here. I'll be lucky if they let me go on the follow-up ships."

"And you're actually going to stay? Not sneak aboard and come along anyway?" She really hadn't thought he would do that.

"Stoick and the others know who's going, and the carpenter will report me as missing if I'm not at work by dawn tomorrow," Tuffnut explained. "They're not taking any chances."

Well, everyone else would expect him to be first in line to do something like that. And Ruffnut too, if she wasn't guaranteed a spot on the ships as a dedicated warrior. "Bad luck."

"Maybe," Tuffnut agreed. "Or maybe I'll be one of the last Berkians in existence next week. The last able-bodied one, anyway." He didn't seem happy with that.

"If it's any consolation, I think it's not going to be much of a battle," Astrid confided, giving voice to her fears. "Even if we can get the ballistae into position, I'm not sure they're strong enough."

"For what?"

The realization hit her like a blow to the gut, one she should have felt long before now. He didn't know. Only Stoick and Thunderguts knew. The tribe was sailing to their doom and they didn't even know how long the odds were. How had she not thought about that?

She needed to sit down. She grabbed a chair-

Tuffnut knocked her hand away. "Not that one, it's sabotaged. It'll break the moment you put any weight on it."

She didn't question it, pulling out another, hopefully normal chair and sitting down. "Nobody knows." She had forgotten Stoick never told her story to the tribe before the demonstration. That would have let everyone know what they were facing. "Nobody knows what they're attacking."

"What, is the nest a mountain of cursed gold or something?" Tuffnut asked warily. He seemed to understand that something was very deeply wrong.

"I wish. It's a barren island, one with a volcano in the center. Hordes of dragons live there, against their will, as best I can figure. There's a creature in the volcano that controls them. That's the real problem."

"How many dragons?"

"That doesn't matter. They're nothing compared to what controls them." She shivered, remembering what she had seen. "Ballista bolts can pierce rock, but only to a point. I'm pretty sure anything that lives in molten lava and eats Zipplebacks as appetizers won't mind that."

Tuffnut's mouth dropped open. "It ate a Zippleback," he repeated.

"And a Gronckle, and that was just in the ten minutes we were in the nest before the accident," she confirmed. "I don't see how we'll ever kill it."

"So... why are you going?" Tuffnut continued before she could respond, beginning to pace. "Glorious death in battle is great and all, but ideally it's death in a battle that can be won. I don't see you throwing yourself headlong into the abyss, so to speak. Me or Ruff, maybe, but not you."

"I need to be there," she objected, unable to put it more eloquently than that. "It's not impossible. For all I know, a dragon and rider might be the key. Or we might die as easily as everyone else. But this is, like it or not, the best chance we have."

"Nobody knows what they're getting into," Tuffnut exclaimed, catching on. "They think it's something they can fight. Just one last horde of Nadders and Nightmares and whatever other common dragons are around."

"The Chief could have told them." That was what she kept coming back to. "He could have, and he never did."

"Because why bother?" Tuffnut asked, suddenly arguing with her instead of listening. "He knows, and he thinks we have a chance. What good would everyone dreading it the whole trip do? We'll go and fight it either way."

"It doesn't feel right," was her only recourse. "Even if not telling does make sense." Tuffnut was making a good point, but she still didn't like the idea. People should know what they were throwing their lives up against.

She stood, too frustrated and keyed up to sit still any longer. "Besides, they have no score to settle. I'm only going because if someone is attacking that thing, Toothless and I need to be there. I wouldn't be so quick to join the attack if I didn't have a personal stake in it."

"Okay, aside from the blatant disregard for tribe and Chief... Toothless?" Tuffnut asked incredulously. "Really?"

"Not my choice of name," Astrid groaned. "And yes. I treat him fairly, so calling him 'dragon' doesn't work anymore. He has a name, and I use it. It's all about trust, and that goes both ways."

Tuffnut shrugged. "Whatever. At least you get to go." He didn't sound as frustrated as before.

"You would still go, knowing what you do now?" She had to be sure.

"Yes. It doesn't change anything. Which is my whole point." Tuffnut walked to the front door. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go secretly laugh at Snotlout's bruised face."

"This is your house, you know," she remarked, joining him as he stepped out the door. "You were going to leave me alone in there?"

"What would you do? Our house is more likely to hurt you than anything, as you almost found out," Tuffnut reasoned. "See you later, Astrid."

She watched him leave, still uncertain about a lot of things. For all they knew, he would never see her again. She left tomorrow, to go do something likely to kill her and the rest of the tribe. So why did he sound so sure?

Misplaced optimism, most likely. She understood his point about knowing not changing anything, but she didn't understand his mentality. People had a right to know what they were getting into.

But they had all made their choice, and he was right about the choice probably being the same whether or not they knew. She wasn't going to do anything drastic; it wouldn't matter in the end anyway. Trying to stop the attack now would be like jumping out in front of a landslide and expecting to not only stop it, but survive the attempt.

* * *

Yet another walk through the forest later, Astrid was back at Toothless's den, having decided she might as well stay there until it was time to go home. Toothless was happy to see her, as usual. He reared up to lick her across the face-

He paused just short of actually licking her, sniffing at her helmet instead. She wasn't sure why; she had the faceplate up, but he had seen that before.

Toothless growled slightly, sitting back down on all four feet and winding around her, looking in all directions.

Protective. What had he noticed to make him protective?

It hit her after a moment of running through the fight in her head. She had stabbed that one teen with the spikes on her helmet.

Sure enough, when she took the helmet off and looked, the spikes were black, not metallic grey, stained with dried blood. She was going to have to clean that off before someone who was less firmly on her side than this particular Night Fury noticed.

"Yeah, I had to fight my way out of something this morning," she admitted, meeting Toothless's concerned gaze. "But really? We both know I won. This isn't my blood."

Toothless chuckled gruffly, sounding almost like he was choking for a moment, and relaxed.

"I got to give Snotlout a beating, too," she recounted. "You did more damage when you got to go at him, but I think I did well enough on my own."

A happy purr, one that was underlaid with the slightest growl. That was about how she felt too. Satisfied and not at all bothered by what she had done.

She put a hand on his forehead and used the other hand to sign a request to go up. "Want to try a little flying? I need to be home soon, but we have some time."

Toothless warbled agreeably. He was fine with that.

* * *

Cold. It was really cold up in the sky, high above Berk. They had decided to gain quite a bit of height and then just glide around. Astrid assumed that they were practicing turning, of which Toothless did quite a bit, all of it otherwise unnecessary. She worked to memorize the subtle muscle cues she could feel under the saddle, sometimes closing her eyes to ignore all else.

It was hard work, but she thought, after about a long while doing nothing but gliding in random, serpentine patterns, that she was getting it. Connecting those cues to an ingrained reaction was going to take more time, but reading the cue correctly was the first step.

After she had it, she stopped concentrating, taking in the sights. They flew in the open now, Toothless either not caring or somehow knowing that being seen by the village no longer mattered.

Here was that promised view of the docks from dragon-back, along with the whole of Berk. She had seen this once before, at night. It looked totally different in the day, especially today when everyone was busily navigating the village. A patchwork quilt of brown, grey, and tan, sprawling from the foot of the mountain to the cliffs, and down the steep slopes to the docks.

They really were only occupying a small part of the island. The village of Berk felt bigger when she was down in it. Up here, it looked like only a small part of the island, that itself a small part of the world around it.

It was good to get some perspective... but that small part of a small part was her world. She did not want to leave it behind. It was good that her parents hadn't seemed to be able to find anyone willing to marry her.

She grinned evilly at that. Her ploy, that of waiting until after the demonstration, had worked better than she'd dared to hope. Either she was too intimidating or too disgraced for any eligible man to want, if her parents were even bothering to look. Exactly where she wanted to be, though the reason could be better.

That didn't mean her parents wouldn't try again the next time another tribe visited. They were not happy with how things were. But it did mean she had dodged this particular onslaught of arrows. She had time to ready herself for the next, assuming she would even be alive to weather it.

It felt almost silly to plan for anything beyond the attack on the nest. Whether they would win or even live to fight another day was so seriously in question that it was almost stupid to assume there would be a future for her or her tribe afterward.

But if she planned to die there, she would die there. She had to work with the assumption that they would do the impossible. That meant that some future struggles were inevitable, even if she had dodged the worst of them.

Snotlout was still on track to become the next Chief, just to pick one gut-churningly disgusting example. That was going to be an ongoing concern. And then there was her status in the very village she didn't want to leave, which was not just going to go away.

But those things felt so small compared to what she had dodged, marriage and moving to another island, maybe without Toothless. She was glad that was more than likely no longer a possibility. Time was on her side, there.

Speaking of time... she patted Toothless's neck, pointing to the part of the forest that held his clearing. "Time to set down." She was looking forward to one last quiet, solitary family meal before they left.

* * *

Astrid caught her parents just as they were leaving the hut to go to the Great Hall, jogging the last stretch of the road to catch up. It seemed her hopes of having a quiet meal were in vain.

"Just in time," her father remarked with a smile.

"Are you going to wear that?" her mother asked.

"Uh... yes?" She wasn't sure why her mother suddenly cared about her clothing. She never had before, always caring more about the practical aspect of things. "It's warm."

"That's fine," her mother decided.

They walked without talking for a time. Astrid began to grow nervous. Something was up. She could not say how she knew. She felt a lot like she had right before being cornered earlier that day.

She glanced to either side of the road and took a quick look behind them. Nobody was following them, and Snotlout was nowhere to be seen. So, she was not somehow sensing his presence. That was good; she didn't want any sort of strange connection to Snotlout, no matter how useful it might be in avoiding him.

"Astrid..." her father began, and then trailed off.

Alarm bells began ringing in her head. "What is going on?" Was this a trial for what she had done, in spite of all logic and Snotlout's own ego? It could not be; they would not be walking calmly to the Great Hall if that was the case. There would be a lecture, or questions, or _something._

"A stroke of good luck, with all that's happened," Asa announced cheerfully. "We're going to go meet them now for dinner."

Astrid knew what was coming now, thanks to that huge hint; she had just a few hours ago thought about how well her plans had worked to forestall exactly this event. She should have known it wouldn't work out so perfectly.

"They're a nice family with a stable reputation and a son who is in need of a bride," her mother explained, just in case the connotations weren't yet obvious enough for her to figure out. "We're going to set the specifics and seal the deal over dinner."

"You agreed to this, though I wish I could have given you a little more warning," her father reminded her, sounding apologetic. "We approached them this afternoon, and there isn't much time left to do anything with, so when they were willing to move as fast as necessary, that was it."

Astrid couldn't help a quiet laugh at that, wondering just how badly her parents had chosen for her if their highest priority was finding someone desperate enough to move quickly. She knew she was being harsh in thinking that cynically, but she thought it anyway. This was not something she wanted. At all. And they knew it, but she had agreed to it, and they had only done what she agreed to. Anyone but Snotlout, but Snotlout was not going to be coming after her anymore, if he valued his own life.

She had no choice. Not at the moment. "I don't want to marry anyone right now." At least she could make her objection to this known. "But I know what I agreed to."

"This needs to be done," her mother asserted. "We need a way away from our bad reputation. Marriage means he will of course bring you home to the hut he'll have to build, and we can use that connection to follow you to their island. You know all of this." The way Asa said it made it clear that she considered that part of the discussion over.

Astrid held her tongue with some difficulty, recognizing just how futile arguing the actual plan was. The only saving grace was that she knew for a fact that she would not be getting married tonight, or tomorrow, or even on the ships. She might not know the specifics, but she knew that there were usually a few months between the signing of a marriage contract and the actual marriage. That meant her prospective husband would have to survive the coming battle.

So maybe it wouldn't come to anything after all. He might die. That was a very morbid way of looking at it, but at least it was a possibility.

But she could not hope for that. She needed to do whatever was possible to up her chances of getting out of this, or if that failed, of bringing Toothless with her.

She entered the Great Hall with that on her mind, trailing behind her parents. The place was packed. They went to the back to get food.

While they waited in the slowly moving line, she looked through the Great Hall, searching for familiar faces, in some cases hoping for a way out, and in others hoping not to see them at all. While Snotlout coming over in a rage might very well interrupt the negotiating of her marriage contract, she wasn't sure if she wanted it to happen.

He wasn't here anyway. Neither was Tuffnut or Fishlegs, or Gobber. A lot of the people she had expected to see were not around. Neither Chief was present, either.

Her father handed her a plate of roast yak and led the way over to a table near the far wall, one already occupied.

A large woman, a strangely skinny man, and a teen, one eating his food rather hurriedly, looking calm. Did he not know about what was about to happen, or was he really that calm about it?

Then he looked up, and she knew who he was.

This had to be a continuation of her bad luck from earlier... or maybe a resurgence of good luck? She wasn't sure whether being matched up with the teen she had just convinced to run from her earlier that day was good or bad for her. On the one hand, he had been willing to follow Snotlout, and presumably to do what Snotlout wanted, which was vile. On the other, she could definitely scare him into letting her do what she wanted, such as bringing Toothless along to his island, or staying away from her as much as possible.

Good and bad, rolled into one. She sat down opposite him, staring intently. So much practice with Toothless had sharpened her ability to convey emotion with her eyes. She narrowed them slightly, nodding subtly at her parents and then his. The message, more or less, was intended to be 'they don't know what you were going to do.'

Her mother opened the conversation, setting her plate down to smile politely at the boy's parents. "Olga, Radnir." She looked over at the teen. "Speedifist. Nice to see you all."

Astrid held in a snort. Speedifist? The one whose greatest achievement was hunting down a Gronckle? His name was far more impressive than he was, and even the name sounded hollow and stupid.

"Asa, Sighvat, and Astrid. Likewise," the man named Radnir returned formally. "We are here to arrange a marriage contract, correct?"

Speedifist's reaction was very telling. His eyes widened, and he stared at her in naked fear. He shook his head slowly. "Father... I don't think-"

"You need a wife, son, and this one is at least willing to consider the idea," Radnir barked at his son. "Thor knows none of the girls on our island want you."

"I _have _a girlfriend!" Speedifist protested indignantly. "And I thought you wanted me to marry up, anyway."

Astrid held in a grim smile. Maybe he could actually convince his parents to call it off. She would consider that a good start at making up for following Snotlout.

Olga got involved at that, snorting derisively. "You know we don't like Hellena's parents. The Hoffersons, on the other hand, are fine. And you will be marrying up... in a way." There was a lot not being said there, though Astrid had no idea what.

She shot Speedifist a subtle glare. He had seriously helped and planned to join Snotlout in assaulting her when he apparently had a girlfriend back home? Her opinion of him dropped even further than it had already plummeted. Disloyal as well as vile and easily cowed.

"And we think it's a good idea," Asa agreed, not-so-subtly elbowing Astrid, trying to get her to play along. Tough luck; she had no intention of doing do.

In fact... she could not call Speedifist out now. Not in public if she wanted to avoid a big scene that might do as much harm as good, but later, after this was settled? Marriage contracts could be broken off by scandal, and Speedifist planning to assault her was more than enough to do that.

This didn't matter. She relaxed at that realization. Nothing here mattered as long as she remained aloof, did not at any point personally agree to anything, and did not betray her own play prematurely.

"So we should get down to the specifics," Radnir boomed. "You brought the contract?"

"Yes, I did," her father answered, pulling out a piece of parchment.

Astrid felt ever so slightly betrayed by that, as nonsensical as it was. Both of her parents were positively eager to sign her away to some boy they didn't even know, just to hopefully escape their bad name here. Even if that was her fault, it felt wrong. Surely they should be a little more reluctant.

"Dowry," Olga grunted, looking the contract over. "Smaller than expected."

"Acceptable?" her mother inquired. "We do not have much more to spare."

"It's fine," Radnir insisted, clearly eager to get this over with. "Wedding on our island?"

"Of course, the bride goes to live with the groom." Asa smiled brightly. "We may actually want to move over to your island."

"We'll see," Olga grunted. "Anythin' else to check?"

"Sighvat and I went over most of this earlier," Radnir said quickly. "How will we sign it?"

Sighvat hesitated, his smile growing slightly pained. "I didn't think to bring ink."

"No dragon's blood or pens either, I think," Olga added. "Does anyone have a charcoal pencil?"

Speedifist shifted guiltily and said nothing. He probably had one judging by that, but given he was as against this as she was, he didn't seem about to offer it up.

Astrid didn't have one, so she was not facing the same quandary her future husband- no, he was not that, no matter what was happening here- had to deal with.

"I have one," Asa supplied, pulling a broken charcoal pencil out of her long braid, where it had been serving as a makeshift pin of some sort. "I was using it to mark some things earlier, and I ended up keeping it with me in case I needed it again."

Well, that was convenient. Astrid had to keep a mantra going in her head as her father and Radnir signed the parchment. Like charcoal, that contract was not permanent. It would be broken soon. It was not permanent.

She did not feel like acting, especially given how quickly she was going to break this once she got her parents alone. She cast Speedifist an entirely unamused, level stare. He in no way impressed her.

* * *

Waiting until her parents wanted to go home was torture, but it had to be done, because she could not leave early. They both seemed intent on focusing on the bright side of all of this, or, if she was looking at it cynically enough, on convincing her to go along with it. She knew they would not let her leave early. So, she suffered through the small talk, the jokes, and the wait.

Finally, she entered their home, a place of privacy-

Well, no, Helga was up, sitting at the table and fiddling with something small and reflective. A brooch or ring of some sort. That was oddly fitting.

Astrid debated asking Helga to leave, but in the end didn't care enough to do so if her parents didn't. Having a witness outside the family might even be helpful, though she couldn't really see how.

"Well, that went well," Asa remarked, hanging her heavy coat on the back of the door where it usually hung when she was not using it.

"It did," Sighvat agreed.

Astrid decided to be blunt. That was usually best. "We're going to have to break that contract."

Asa chuckled. "No, we're not. We meant it, and you are officially betrothed. You'll get used to it."

"I might, if it wasn't about to be broken," Astrid declared, not believing her own agreement. "Speedifist is not fit to be my husband, but you could not possibly have known that." Here it came.

"You say that like there's an actual reason behind your dislike," Helga noted from her place at the table. "I know him, though I had thought he had a girlfriend."

"He does, but that's not it." She _might_, in a perfect world in which she was a master manipulator, be able to break the contract through that alone with the right rumors and a little time. But she was no such thing, and there wasn't time to do that anyway, though she _could _probably get Tuffnut's help in doing it.

"He and four friends were planning to assault me today," she revealed. "Snotlout leading them."

All three adults froze. Asa recovered first. "Planning?"

"They cornered me after I left to take a walk this morning," Astrid continued matter-of-factly. "Tuffnut had warned me of their intentions, but that wasn't exactly on my mind at the time. I managed to threaten Speedifist into running away, and I beat the dragon dung out of the rest of them, in a four-on-one fight." She was still proud of that. "No deaths, but I broke at least one knee and nose, along with knocking three of the four out. I left the last one conscious so that he could stop himself from bleeding out." She only revealed the exact details to drive home how serious this was. "So, no. I'm not marrying one of the guys who wanted to force himself on me."

"You took on four armed boys larger than you and came out without a scratch?" Helga asked incredulously.

"My armor took the scratch." She showed her armguard, which had a shallow gash in it, and then pointed to her chestplate. "Along with the sword meant for my heart near the end. Snotlout won't try to spin this his way. His sword made this mark, and there's no spinning that."

Her parents were warriors; they were not shocked like Helga. They were, however, furious.

"You should have turned those dishonorable cowards in!" Asa asserted angrily. "All four of them."

"Five," Astrid clarified. "Speedifist only left because I threatened to hunt him down and kill him if he stayed. The rest weren't smart enough or cowardly enough to do the same." She needed to make it clear that he was guilty of the intent, if not the attempt, or this was pointless.

"But he did not; you just said he thought better of it," her father noted. "He may have not known-"

"Tuffnut joined their little group specifically to hear what Snotlout was planning. He said it straight out. Everyone present knew what was going down."

"But he left," Asa summarized. "That is no reason to break the marriage contract."

"The one I am marrying is either a spineless coward or a vile, dishonorable coward," Astrid objected angrily, "and you say that's fine? That I should just go along with it?" She couldn't believe this. "I don't even want to marry!"

"Then why?" Helga asked curiously. "Surely-"

"We need to go somewhere to start fresh, and that was our way off Berk," Asa explained shortly. "And I'm sorry Astrid, but you're going to have to work through your objections. He is guilty of no more than listening to the heir of an allied tribe."

She couldn't believe this. "Seriously?" It was a frank, quiet question, because her anger was gone, beaten out by disappointment. "Dad?" she asked, turning to the other person capable of making the right choice.

"We need a way out, and it's only going to get harder if we break a marriage contract over unprovable accusations," Sighvat sighed. "Astrid, your mother is right. We're not breaking this."

"I can't believe this." There was so much more she couldn't bear to say. This was not putting their family name ahead of her convenience, she had a legitimate concern that they were totally dismissing!

Helga, on the other hand, seemed to have no problem saying such things. "I don't know everything about what's going on, but it seems to me that Astrid is right. You would marry her to someone she cannot ever trust or respect?"

"I would not totally destroy all future chances at marriage or some semblance of respect _for_ her because her future husband decided _against_ doing something dishonorable," Sighvat countered, seeming annoyed that Helga had offered her opinion on what was definitely a family matter. "Especially when breaking the contract also involves, if we are successful, destroying the boy's chances as well! If she had told me before we made it official, I would consider it, but now to do so would cause more harm to both than it prevents!"

So that was it. He was sure, and he was the one she would have expected to be more on her side, if anything. They both were sure. She knew her parents, and she knew when further argument was pointless. This wasn't going to work, even if Helga did agree with her.

But she refused to despair. A lot was in flux right now. Speedifist could still die at the nest. She could still die at the nest. It was possible none of this would matter in a week's time.

If they all survived... then she could figure something out.

But for now, she felt betrayed and frustrated. She stomped back outside, going out the back door. She needed to break something, and better training targets than furniture or people.

Besides, she had already broken people today. Somehow, thinking of her success in a frantic battle was not so enjoyable now that she knew the one who had fled might eventually get what he wanted, where the others had all failed.


	27. Drawing Near

"Everyone up and at it!"

The message was delivered by a loud, booming voice that was not much muffled by the fact that it came from outside the house. Viking wake-up calls were impersonal and loud. It was time to go.

Astrid bolted upright, cursing under her breath. She had overslept, worn out and frustrated by the events of the day before, and no wonder. Fighting off Snotlout, realizing that everyone was sailing to their doom unaware of what they were going to be facing, getting betrothed to a slimy coward, and then finding out that her parents weren't willing to break it off because she had been too effective in scaring said coward...

That last one stung. If she had just taken Tuffnut's advice it would have been five on one, but she knew now that she could have handled that, and Speedifist actually going through with the attempt would have ensured her parents had no choice but to break off the contract.

So much for all of that. She stood with a huff, noticing that Vanna had somehow slept through the loud call to attention. The girl was a heavy sleeper.

Astrid pulled on her armor, knowing she was going to have to fly today. At that, did she want to bring any other clothing? A week on a ship, and then the fight of her life...

Yes, she should probably bring something other than her new armor. She pulled out one of her chests of spare clothes-

Before putting it back, standing and grabbing her ax and helmet. She had left a perfectly good change of clothes in Toothless's den, and she didn't have the time to go through her room for anything else. That would have to be good. Most Vikings didn't bring spare clothes at all. She would be fine.

Astrid ran out of the house, dreading what she would see in the sky. Was it only a little after dawn, or was it almost noon? She didn't want to have to catch up with the boats once they had set off. Being late was not a good way to start this trip, even if she alone on the island could be left behind and still catch up.

Not noon, not yet. That was her first coherent thought as she ran through the busy streets, dodging slow-moving Vikings carting armfuls of personal weaponry. The sun was well above the horizon, but she could make it with time to spare if she ran the whole way.

What better way to work off her frustration with her parents? Of all the crazy things that had happened yesterday, that was the only one that had not ended well, or at least neutrally. Tuffnut had been right in saying not knowing what was at the nest didn't matter, Snotlout and company had been thrashed, and the betrothal to Speedifist _should_ have been nothing.

She didn't understand her parents. From what she had heard that was typical, but this was different. They were doing something she could in no way see as reasonable. Helga, a bystander with no personal stake in it, had been totally on her side. What were they thinking?

Maybe it wouldn't matter. Maybe it would, though, and she couldn't just leave it like that. Ignoring oncoming problems in the hope that they'd go away was a bad idea when there was anything she might be able to do to affect the outcome. Ignoring only worked if it was out of her hands anyway.

She scowled aimlessly, forcing herself to run faster. At the moment, she just needed to keep moving.

* * *

Toothless was awake and alert when she jogged, tired but satisfied with her speed, into the clearing, breaking long-dead branches under her boots in a cacophony of snapping wood. "Up and at it, Toothless, we're taking a trip."

Then she ran right past him into his den, grabbing the cold and slightly damp bundle of clothing she had left... how long ago? The last few days felt stretched and overfilled, so much had happened. She had left these the morning of the demonstration, which was the third day. Stoick had announced their voyage the day after, and given them two days to prepare... so four days ago?

She really should have retrieved them before now. She'd have to wash them later, on the ship.

Tucking the bundle under her arm, she returned to Toothless, who was watching her excitedly. "Okay, this is going to be a quick flight." Jumping into the saddle was easier than climbing on, so she did that. Attaching the two safety tethers was simple enough, and then they were ready.

"We're going to the docks," she asserted, unsure of whether Toothless knew where that was. "By the village."

He grunted in agreement and flared his wings. She knew what that meant.

They were off. She hurriedly flipped the faceplate of her helmet down, shivering uncontrollably at the stream of freezing air. Every day was somehow colder than the last, and all the uncovered fresh water on Berk had frozen by now. The sea always froze last, after the first real storm of the long Winter season, which had not yet come.

Two more days. They had to hope that first storm would avoid Berk for two more days. It was going to be so incredibly close. They really should have waited until Spring for all of this. But she wasn't the one in charge, so that wasn't up to her. It was all up to Stoick, who was all for going now, whatever his personal motivations.

Astrid directed Toothless by way of slightly closing the fin to signal a turn and angling him towards the distant docks. "This is easy," she asserted, almost to reassure herself. It was going to take time to truly get used to flight, and she planned to spend as much of that time as possible on the trip, but the absolute basics were not difficult.

Toothless looked back at her and snorted, rolling his eyes. Of course, he would think this was boring. She remembered the raids he must have supported, flashing from one tower to another in moments. They couldn't see him, but they could see the direction the blasts came from, and when two towers were shot from opposite directions in a matter of moments, and they now knew there was only one Night Fury raiding, that pointed to some fancy flying.

"I'll get there eventually," she promised. That was met with a patronizing grunt.

She would show him. But that was for later. For now, they were nearing the docks, and this was where things could get tricky. She leaned over in the saddle to point down at the ships, her hand just within his line of sight.

They had no gestures for color. She had to settle for signaling down and go, pointing as accurately as she could at the blue stripes that marked their designated place, and saying "The blue spot on the deck."

Toothless swooped lower, descending as he flew forward, and slowing down. This was going to be a tricky landing...

But it looked like he knew where she wanted him to go, aiming right at the spot she had marked. She relaxed a little, looking down at the docks.

Everyone had stopped in their tracks, looking up with some mixture of fear and awe. Would they ever get used to this? Probably not.

Then they were there, dropping down onto the deck of the ship, Toothless's paws scuffing one of the blue lines as he scrabbled for a moment, unused to such slick surfaces-

Then his claws hooked into the wood, and they were still. He growled at the deck, pulling his paws up to unstick his claws.

Astrid unhooked the tethers and slid down, dropping her bundle of clothing on the deck. It already needed to be cleaned, so there was no point in keeping it out of the damp. They were here.

"We're going to go flying again as soon as things settle down and we're on our way," she explained, patting Toothless on the nose. "For right now..."

Another round of gestures. The sign for stay, along with that for being alert.

Toothless gestures right back at her. Stay, alert, and alert again. That had to be intentional. The way he was looking around suspiciously was also quite telling.

She smiled reassuringly. "Fine, I can stick around. I was going to anyway. But they all know they shouldn't mess with you." She hoped so, anyway. And if they did...

On second thought, he was right, she definitely shouldn't leave him here. Trusting Vikings to remember things and be reasonable when dragons were involved was a bad idea. She sat down on the deck, leaning up against the cabin their space abutted.

Toothless curled up next to her, putting his back to the wall and looking out warily. They could see and hear the docks on one side of the ship, and what looked like the Windy Isle lead ship on the other, being loaded from the other side.

How must Toothless see all of this? The people he avoided and had in the past fired on, all around him. The only one he trusted had brought him here, but he was definitely not happy with it.

"You'll get used to it," she said, feeling like she was repeating herself. "And if anyone tries anything, I'll stop them before you have to." Only a small portion of Berk's warriors would be aboard this particular ship. Hopefully that portion would not include too many troublemakers.

* * *

Astrid had never taken the time to sit and watch a warship being boarded. She always had better things to do. But now, she had pretty much no choice. She couldn't be entirely sure, but the ships might be visibly floating lower as time passed and more people boarded. There was something funny about seeing a ship visibly struggle to float after Sven the Burly stepped aboard. If the ships were living creatures, she would have pitied them.

Was pity a Vikingly emotion? No, and she didn't care. Ruffnut's advice back when her biggest problem had been rumors was beginning to make sense. Astrid wasn't acting out to take advantage of her worthless reputation, but it had definitely contributed to that time of introspection, and by extension how she saw things now. If she could go back to being the perfect example of a Viking and a warrior, would she even count? No, not anymore. And Ruffnut was right; she wasn't sure she would trade how she was now for that. She was who she was, and the Viking way didn't totally fit her anymore.

A commotion on the deck of the ship next to her caught her attention. Thunderguts' strident voice was clearly audible, as was the less deafening voice of the man he was arguing with.

"Yer boy's supposed to be here," Thunderguts yelled, berating one of subordinates. "Where is 'e?"

"I don't _know_!" the other man replied, yelling right back.

"Fine, then." Thunderguts shrugged, apparently accepting that. "Forget it. I'm sure ye'll find him when we get to the nest, if he's on another ship."

That was odd. Thunderguts did not strike her as the type of person to be so easily convinced of... anything, really. Something was off there; even if he was easily mollified, nobody would just stop being angry in an instant.

But it wasn't her business. Especially in this case, where it wasn't even her tribe. She put a hand on Toothless's side, getting his attention. He had been watching them too.

He turned to look at her, his eyes narrower than normal. Maybe he didn't like loud, obnoxious Vikings. If that was the case, this was going to be a very long trip.

Then he shifted one of his paws, gesturing at her.

Threat.

His ears flicked in Thunderguts' direction, and he growled softly.

"He's the Chief of an allied tribe," she said quietly, unsettled by that. "And he's more okay with you and what we do than a lot of his own tribe probably is. He's not a threat to us." She was a bit confused as to why Toothless would think that in the first place. Thunderguts wasn't even yelling at them; he had been abusing one of his own men and had calmed down easily enough.

Toothless grumbled softly, making the same gesture.

"He's fine," she repeated. "Besides, he's on his own ship. He can't get over to us." She pointed to the gap between ships. "That's only going to get wider once we set out. He's stuck on that one."

That settled Toothless down. He growled in Thunderguts general direction, but looked away after a moment, apparently at least somewhat at ease.

It was a good thing they weren't making the trip on Thunderguts' ship. This might be hard enough without Toothless disliking anyone right away.

On that note... Astrid couldn't see the actual deck from here, facing behind the ship, but she could see who was boarding, and she was keeping track. So far, a typical assortment of Berkians. As of yet, nobody she knew more than in passing. Snotlout was absent, which was a relief. She actually hadn't seen him yet. He would probably show up at the last minute.

She _had_ seen Ruffnut, boarding the same ship Stoick would be taking, in the company of a few of the other dedicated warriors. They would be with the Chief, in the forefront of the action.

How was she feeling, being up front and center without her brother by her side? Maybe she was used to it by now.

* * *

Noon came and went. The ships left without ceremony, mostly because everyone had already celebrated the night before. The decks were packed with people, the hungover sailors begrudgingly accepting help from whoever wanted to be sure they were going in the right direction. Nobody wanted to be below deck right at the beginning of the voyage, so the main deck was crowded.

Except for the space right around Toothless. Astrid was glad she had picked such an out-of-the-way spot, because nobody wanted to come within ten paces of the Night Fury on deck. If she had set up in the middle of the deck, they wouldn't have been able to sail anywhere, Toothless preventing people from adjusting the main sail by his very presence.

It was a little annoying, given the example she was setting, sitting right next to him, but she didn't care that much. It was their choice, and if they wanted to crowd into a smaller space instead of getting close to the harmless dragon, their mistake.

* * *

Astrid had never taken a long voyage before. Fishing trips lasted a day, or at least the ones she had been on did. This, though, was a week's trip.

Somehow, she hadn't thought about sleeping on the ship. When she found out it was done by lying on bare boards below deck, she was unimpressed, to put it mildly. What was worse was that there were no barriers or dividers between people down there. She had no issue with enduring hardship, but she intended to get some sleep on this trip, and that was not going to happen lying between a snoring old man and a fat woman who whistled in her sleep.

So, she lingered on the deck long after dark, leaning against the railing and staring out at where Berk had been. It was just a tiny smudge on the horizon now, a day out.

That was still a better thing to stare at than the vast ocean beneath her. She knew, in her mind, that the ship was totally seaworthy, and that there was no reason to be worried about what might be beneath them.

In her heart, the fear of the sea she had cultivated and then ignored was coming back with a vengeance. She probably wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway.

Instead of sleeping, she was staring out into the deep, searching for lights that weren't there, unable to relax. There were a few sailors out on deck, the night crew, but they paid her no mind. Toothless was sleeping on the deck behind the cabin. At least _he _could relax.

This was stupid. But she couldn't stop thinking about it. They were not invulnerable here. Anything could be down there, and even her father had said ships were sometimes attacked by things from the water.

Humans had the ground. Dragons took the air. It made sense, in a scarily logical way, that something would dominate the oceans. Something dangerous, something they rarely ever saw because it lurked far too deep to be noticed, except for when it did not-

She shivered, hating her own uncertainty. Where was her resolution to not worry about that which she could not change?

That was a rational thought. Rational did not describe how she was acting now. Childish was probably a better description.

There was a muffled commotion behind her, the night crew muttering and moving around. She could hear sharp claws clicking on the deck, so she did not bother to turn and see. He was coming to her.

Toothless came to stand beside her, looking out at the ocean. He didn't make any noise, breathing quietly, and didn't try to gesture something. Their system of communication did not cover actual conversations.

She felt a little better with him beside her. He had been there too, and had seemed equally disturbed by the lights they had seen in the depths. If anyone understood, it would be him, even if he couldn't say so.

"I shouldn't be afraid," she whispered, not wanting any of the night crew to hear her. "It's stupid."

A pair of almost glowing green eyes regarded her solemnly.

She was not afraid of him. She never had been, really. Not in principle. Dragons were killable, approachable, knowable to some extent. The whole island had to fight them or die. There was no reason to be any more afraid of a dragon than of a rival tribe member. At least, that was how she had always seen it.

She knew dragons. Better than ever, now, at least when it came to Night Furies. She didn't _know _what might be below them, and that was what frightened her. It might know her or her kind, but she did not know it.

She couldn't stand to stare at the water anymore. "Let's go flying," she requested, gesturing the same message without even thinking about it.

* * *

The air was like ice, cold and wet. The wind howled up here, high above the ocean. The ship she had left was just one point of light, one of many spread across the water below.

This... this was better. So much better. Up here, she could not look at the water. It was just a sheet of mirrors, the moon's light making it impossible to see anything more. Here was safe.

Safe. Nothing from the water could possibly come this high unless it had wings. The few water-dwelling dragons in the Book of Dragons might be able to reach them, but those did not worry her.

Scauldrons, Thunderdrums, Seashockers, and Riptides. They all shared one thing in common. They breathed air, like whales. They were not creatures of the deep, they just frequented it sometimes. Even Scauldrons, which she had been told were almost immobile on land, lived in caves near the shore, isolated and deadly, firmly in the realm of land, not water, even though the species looked like a strange sea creature. Seashockers, the Zipplebacks of the water, traveled in pods, skimming the surface. They were almost like boats, sticking near the top of the water, because they had to breathe. Thunderdrums and Riptides were the same. Even the more mysterious, mostly-blank entries in the book of dragons that dealt with water dragons shared that trait. The dragons in question all could be seen on land, and all breathed air in the end.

All of that was to say that what she feared was not any kind of dragon, even the ones that frequented the water. It was the true deep-dwelling unknown that bothered her... and that surely could not reach up here.

"Odd, in a way," she said, speaking her mind to Toothless, "that I gain a fear of water and a way to fly in the same trip."

There was no response. Toothless was simply enjoying the flight, leading them ever higher at a shallow incline that made the increase barely noticeable. There were no clouds to touch or judge height by, further increasing the difficulty of knowing exactly how high they were.

Gliding through the dark on a Night Fury, totally at ease with the killer directly below her, but at odds with some of her own people, and in fear of what lurked below them all. Could things be any less normal than that?

* * *

The next day was filled with fishing and flying. Neither she nor Toothless was showing any real signs of having stayed up all night. Him because for all she knew night was his natural element, and her because... well, she didn't know why. She couldn't afford to avoid sleep again. She knew that much. This was an unexpected reprieve from the lethargy she had expected.

So, they spent the day in the air. She learned the exact movements Toothless needed from her to fish, and they supplied their ship with a fresh catch, along with supplying themselves. That earned them some begrudging thanks, along with a lot of muttering about why the dragons raided if they could just feed themselves.

She did not bother to answer that. Tuffnut had been right. It did not matter, in the end. That fight would play out the same whether or not the rank-and-file Viking was expecting it. Assuming they even got there.

She, on the other hand, could and was striving to be as ready as possible. Toothless continued to challenge her, introducing a new move the moment she got the hang of the previous innovation. She was beginning to wonder if a week in the air was enough to even cover all he could do, let alone memorize it and commit it to muscle memory.

And then night came, all too soon, and they set down. Toothless was tired, and she could not avoid sleep. But she did not go below deck. That did not appeal to her.

So, she made use of her other set of clothing. The armored skirt was put to use covering her as a makeshift blanket, albeit a small one, and her tunic to being a pillow, of sorts. She lay out on deck, counting on her armor to keep her just warm enough to sleep, if not totally warm in the truly frigid cold.

That setup lasted about as long as it took Toothless to realize she was intending to sleep out on the deck next to him. He glared at her for a moment, silently reprimanding her, and shuffled over to her, moving fast despite the care he had to take to not crush or strike her as he settled back down.

She glared right back at him. "You could have _asked_," she griped, now tucked under a wing right next to him. "I didn't want to bother you. If one of us needs to be fully rested, it's you." He was doing the flying, after all.

No response. He was faking being asleep. She knew it was fake because his ears twitched towards her when she talked, and his wing pushed her down when she tried to get up.

"Pushy dragon," she griped. Fine. If he insisted...

* * *

It was a very, very good thing she had staked out a place out of sight of the rest of the deck. Nobody noticed her sleeping arrangements. She did not care what they thought, but that did not mean she wanted to be talked about any more than she already was. Ideally, people would cease to care about her or Toothless, and treat them as they would anyone else.

That really was the ideal, and an unattainable one to boot.

On the more practical side of things, she could not deny that having her own heated blanket in Toothless's wing was nice. She had slept soundly.

"This is not going to become a regular thing," she told him, combing through her still annoyingly short hair with her fingers. "I just prefer being cold to sleeping next to the average Viking."

He rolled his eyes, looking down at the wing that had covered her, and withdrawing it questioningly.

"Fine." She gestured the sign that meant thanks, knowing she owed him that much. "And your wing is better than being cold."

He churred at her, clearly amused.

"Let's just go get food," she grumbled, not really mad.

* * *

They fell into a routine after that. Fly all day, fish for themselves and the ship whenever they felt like it, avoid the other passengers, and sleep on deck.

It was an oddly isolated schedule. She had not spent so much time with Toothless since the raft, and this time around she was alert and not starving or otherwise slowly dying.

It was not a bad way to spend a week. Toothless was not annoying, or rude, or boring. He was a dragon, and that made him just different enough to be fascinating, but not different enough to be unlike her, now that she knew where to look. She definitely preferred his company to that of the average Viking, even if she could not really talk to him. He was like her family, in that way. They didn't need to fill the silence with meaningless talk.

She did spend some time thinking about the future. There were four paths she could see her life taking.

The first was the darkest. She would die at the nest. Her people would die there too. End of story. That was the least desirable way to go. Utter failure. It would be poetic, in a way, to die in the very place she and Toothless had almost miraculously escaped, but she did not care about or even like poetry anyway.

The second worst case was that she and Toothless survived, but the attack failed, and everybody else died. In that case...

They would go home, to Berk. She would help where she could, and ensure the few members of her tribe that remained would survive, leaving the island to join other tribes, and then she and Toothless would go. There were wandering warriors for hire already, people who had lost their tribe. They could do that. It was not a desirable outcome, but if it happened, Berk was dead. She would just have to figure out who she was without her home. At least she would not be alone.

And if they did not fail? If the nest and the monstrosity somehow fell to Viking stubbornness? There were two ways she could see that going.

In the first scenario, Speedifist survived, and she eventually would be forced to choose between marrying him and going the wandering warrior route. She might choose marriage, if only because she could definitely scare Speedifist into letting her bring Toothless home. Maybe she could use Toothless as a buffer, make Speedifist build another room on the house he would have to construct anyway, and keep Toothless close. She could tolerate a spineless husband if she had full control of everything else.

That would be miserable, for a time, but it could be done. And when Speedifist died, which might be sooner rather than later, she would be free to not remarry.

She hadn't really thought that plan through. It was not happening.

Ideally, something would break the marriage contract. She didn't _want _Speedifist dead, but that would do it, and there was every chance it was going to happen. She could go back to Berk, maneuver her parents into not arranging any more marriages without her say so, somehow, and be happy. The details past that were fuzzy, and in that case she would still have to deal with Snotlout, but again, he might end up dead too.

Puzzling over those details helped occupy the free hours. She should not have to think about flight to operate the tailfin, so she tried to keep her mind on other things as much as possible, to speed up the transition from conscious choice to muscle memory.

It wasn't working, or at least it wasn't working fast enough. It would take her months to become skilled at doing even a quarter of what Toothless had taught her. With every new permutation of timing and tailfin position, she grew more and more impressed with what Hiccup had accomplished. In only a month of part-time flight, at best, he had kept up with Toothless on that wild ride. She was only now seeing how ridiculously good he had to be to manage that.

She was not going to be anywhere as effective on Toothless as Hiccup would be if he was here. She could only hope her lesser skill would not be the deciding factor in whether or not she or Toothless survived the upcoming battle.

* * *

Time flew when they did, and it did not slow much on the ship, either. Days passed, days of training and not much else. She barely spoke to those she shared a ship with, and they seemed fine with that.

So, it was a bit odd when one of the sailors called her over. She didn't know his name, but he seemed to be in charge of this ship.

"We need to ask a favor," he began, speaking carefully. "The Chief is on that ship." He pointed to the small outline of a larger ship in the distance ahead of them. "Can you go ask him if any of our other ships can spare a good replacement sail?"

Astrid looked up, noticing that the sail did seem oddly slack. "We aren't carrying spares?"

"We are, but our spare is one of the bad ones so it won't be as good. We'd fall behind, and I don't want to slow down the group. They will have to wait for us in front of Helheim's gate, and that's dangerous."

"What you really want is for me to first get permission, and then check all the ships for the best possible replacement," she summarized. "Will people on those ships know which is best? I don't."

"Yes, they should." He smiled gratefully. "I guess having a dragon around is good for more than easy fish and the occasional jumpscare."

"Jumpscare?" She didn't know that word, but it was a bit odd that any Viking was admitting to being scared to start with.

"A shock that is only so because it is not expected," he explained defensively. "Not actually scared, just surprised."

"I get it." _Of course _there would be a word that served entirely as a way to admit being startled without any connotation of actually being afraid. "Anyway, we'll get right on that."

* * *

The ships of the combined fleet were spread out, and bringing them together would take hours of effort. Getting from one to another was impossible.

Unless one had a dragon. Then, it was as simple as just flying over. Landing, on the other hand...

"Clear a space!" Astrid yelled, repeating herself for the third or fourth time. "We need to talk to the Chief." He wasn't on deck at the moment, so she would have to find him. Or, at the rate this was going, he would come up to the deck himself at some point and see her and Toothless still circling, waiting for people to move out of the way.

"What's all the commotion?" A loud, commanding voice yelled, drawing nearer even as it spoke. "Dragons already?"

"One," a particularly large warrior yelled back. "Astrid, with a message."

"What is it?" Stoick emerged on deck, looking up to the sky and finding Astrid and Toothless still circling. "And get down here. I'm not yelling to someone in the sky."

"I would," Astrid yelled back, "if they would clear a space for us!"

"Well?" Stoick looked around. "What are you waiting for?"

Someone they actually respected enough to listen to, apparently. When Stoick asked for a space, he got one, which proved the people on deck had been intentionally not doing what she asked.

No matter; she was just glad she had not decided to make the trip on this ship. Toothless set down in the suddenly open space, looking around suspiciously.

"Our ship sent me because our main sail is failing," she reported, keeping it vague because she didn't actually know what was wrong with their current sail. "They want me to find the best possible replacement among the fleet's extra sails, so that we don't lag behind."

"Good thinking, if unusual," Stoick mused. "Only because it wasn't possible before now. Go ahead. Ours, if I remember right, isn't much good, so you'll have to check another ship."

That was all she needed "On it, Chief." She flipped the tailfin, and Toothless leaped back into the air.

"That was ridiculous," she griped as they soared back over the fleet. "But at least that's all they did." She could totally imagine someone tossing an ax at her or Toothless with the built-in excuse of 'I thought they were attacking' ready to go. Vikings were rock-headed enough that they might even be believed.

The worst part of it all was that they had to do it again, without an authority figure to clear a place.

"So, which one do you think we should go to?" Astrid asked idly. She had gotten into the habit of speaking aloud while in the air, sharing whatever was on her mind. It was freeing to be somewhere nobody could possibly eavesdrop, speaking to someone who would not betray or judge her thoughts even if he could.

Toothless, in way of an answer, angled them to another Berkian vessel. They would start with that one.

* * *

Six responses so far, and a lot of frustration. Two 'no, we might need it', one 'we're already using ours', and three 'yes, but it's not very good' were all Astrid had to show for several hours of flying, waiting for a place to land, and talking to various Vikings. They were going to Windy Isle ships as well now, having run out of Berkian vessels to check.

The only saving grace in all of this was that she still had not run into Snotlout. He had to be below deck somewhere. She was totally happy pretending he wasn't even here for as long as she could. He would rear his ugly, probably still bruised head at some point.

Next came the Windy Isle ship that was carrying Thunderguts. At least she and Toothless could expect a speedy landing if Thunderguts was on deck...

Which he definitely was, standing at the rudder of his ship, personally steering them forward, though right now that job could just as easily be done by a taut rope to keep the rudder on its current course.

He cleared a place for them before Astrid could even ask, clearing half the deck in the process. His people certainly didn't want to be slow in obeying him.

She jumped off the saddle as soon as they set down, having forgone the safety straps at some point in the repetitive process of flying a short distance, gliding, landing, and then doing it all over again.

"So, stretchin' its wings, eh?" Thunderguts asked politely. "Any particular reason you're doing the rounds?"

"One of our ships needs a good replacement sail," Astrid explained, acutely aware that Toothless did not like Thunderguts, and thus hoping to get this done with quickly.

"We've got one for yeh," Thunderguts rumbled helpfully. "Oy, Skarn! Go get the backup sail."

The named Viking, who had been loitering nearby, jumped to attention and disappeared below deck.

"It'll be a minute, it's probably buried." Thunderguts smiled welcomingly. "So, what's this I hear lately about ye maybe joining our tribe?"

Astrid was only caught off-balance for a moment. "Possibly," she agreed noncommittally. "It looks like that at the moment."

"Speedifist's parents got a good deal," Thunderguts asserted. "And I got a better one."

"Sir?" She didn't like that tone of voice. Oddly enough, for once it was not directed at her, but at the dragon currently winding his way around her, even more on edge than before.

"The dragon comes with ye, right?" Thunderguts clarified. "I'm more than happy to host such a... unique... creature."

"Yes, he will be going where I do," Astrid agreed. "And as long as that hosting involves him alive, uncaged, unharmed, and with me, we're good with that." There was a chance, however undesirable, of things playing out that way. She might as well make sure there would not be any complications in that direction.

"O' course!" Thunderguts laughed, making as if to put a large hand on her shoulder, before thinking better of it. "Nobody'll mess wit' what you've got goin'. We'll be happy to welcome ye to our tribe."

That was all well and good on the surface. Astrid added one more complication to her mental list. If her life played out in this direction, she might have a Chief with ambiguous motivations to deal with. At least Stoick was straightforward. Thunderguts clearly had plans for her and Toothless, and she had no way of knowing what those were.

Well, actually, she could ask. "What would you do with us if we were yours to command?"

"No idea," was the immediate answer. "Hard to think of what I could do differently. I'll let ya know if I think of anything."

Sure. There had to be some ideas rolling around in his head, he just didn't want to share them. That was fine; she wasn't going to have to deal with him, ideally. And if she did end up needing to handle whatever he wanted from her, there was always the option of just flying away. It would be impossible to both control and use her and Toothless, and he would want to use them.

"Of course," Thunderguts suddenly added, "all o' that's dependent on whether any o' us survive the next few days."

"True enough," Astrid agreed. "What brings that up?" It had been an oddly quick change in the direction of the conversation.

"Helheim's gate," he said, pointing behind her. "We're almost there, and all bets are off in that foggy maze."

Astrid looked over her shoulder to see both the Viking sent to get the sail returning, carrying a quite bulky roll of fabric she was going to have to get Toothless to carry in his paws...

And more importantly, a bank of peculiarly low clouds on the horizon. She might not have recognized it if someone had not pointed it out, but she knew now. That was the start of the area around the nest. Helheim's gate, as it was known.

The fight was literally on the horizon, now. That needed to be dealt with before anything else could matter, and everyone knew it.

_**Author's Note:**_** Really, anyone in Thunderguts' position would have some ambition for a dragon and rider suddenly bound to his tribe and people. That isn't necessarily a bad thing. For all we know, he's hoping to send Astrid and Toothless on trading missions, or to use them to talk quickly and efficiently to other tribes...**

**Oh, who am I kidding. The implications are so obvious I don't even feel the need to keep them unspoken. He'd use them for war of some sort, that's not even a question. Although, let's be fair, Stoick planned exactly the same thing. Different person, same ways of thinking.**

**It might not even matter after next chapter. I know who dies and who lives, but you don't.**

**Also, yes, I probably contradicted some canon past the first movie when Astrid thought about water-dwelling dragons. (And the Riptide is my own OS, aka Original Species). I don't really mind, as the only canon this story uses is HTTYD1, so contradicting later elements isn't really a problem. I kind of envy the writers who began writing when HTTYD1 was all there was, in a way. They had so much less to work with, but they had all the important stuff. **_**Broken**_**, one of my all-time favorite stories, was written so long ago that it came pretty close to pre-empting GotNF's auto-tailfin idea. Less to build off of, but more space to build in without hitting something canon defined already. **


	28. Aided Assault

Helheim's gate. The name that did not apply to a place so much as a border, as far as Astrid knew. The fog wall stretched to either horizon, unbroken by any landmark. Strange, distant sounds came from within. Calling it the gate to another realm was appropriate, given how otherworldly it was.

Another realm or not, she and her people were here to conquer it. The ships had grouped up, tacking and maneuvering to be in the right positions to enter the gate together, in formation.

From what she had seen of the maze, that formation would soon be reduced to a single-file line, but at least they were making an attempt. On every ship, Vikings crowded the deck. Some were armed with bolas, and others with bows, this being a rare occasion in that any Viking would stoop to such a weapon. It was necessary; a bow was the only way a Viking stuck in the middle of the boat could strike out at the attackers unless they dropped on top of him or her, in which case they were already in trouble. Nothing was being held back.

Except, of course, for the one thing they absolutely had to hold back. Toothless swooped low over one of the Windy Isle ships, giving Astrid a good look at the operational but unmanned ballistae. Thunderguts had probably faced some confused opposition over not using them, but he was not one to take insubordination lightly, so they would go unused in this fight.

Every bolt would be needed for the real battle beyond the maze. Those ballistae were vital.

The sun shone in her eyes, and she flicked the facemask down to cut off the flare. They could not afford to fight in the dark, but it was morning now. The best time to attack, to have as much light as possible. One last, hearty meal had been eaten, weapons were polished, and prayers for glorious victory or death had been said, along with the customary sacrifices, or at least the ones that could be done on a ship.

Now was the time to begin. Their play had been decided, and it was time to see if they could pull it off.

There was no yell of defiance or loud and glorious call to battle. They needed stealth for as long as it might last. Fighting on the ground of the nest was the ideal scenario, as opposed to being attacked while stuck on crowded ships. The scenario no fleet had ever succeeded in taking advantage of, because no fleet had ever made it that far. Astrid knew that for a fact; there had been no wrecked or abandoned ships anywhere on the shore of the nest, not a single sign of prior invaders.

Then again, this was a larger force than normal. They could do it. There would be no searching; she had made sure Stoick and Thunderguts knew and spread the knowledge that the nest was at the exact center of the fog. That, in itself, might be enough to get ships to the nest; they knew where to go now.

Navigating through the fog would be harder, but they could do it. Stoick, if nobody else, had enough practice to be good at it. He had survived more nest hunts than anyone, despite always leading the charge. He could do it.

She and Toothless would fly above, doing...

Astrid wasn't quite sure what they would be doing, actually. A bit like the ballistae, they needed to reserve their strength for the real fight. But if Toothless was willing to take down a few dragons along the way, she wouldn't object.

She also wouldn't object if he refused to kill his own kind in this fight. They were, after all, not fighting of their own free will, and while she had no problem cutting them down if they threatened her or her side, she might feel differently if they were her own species. She would not judge her friend for not wanting to kill them.

They would find out soon whether or not that would be the case. The first of the ships pierced the fog, not really cutting into it so much as sinking sideways, slowly fading. Very much like what a gateway to another realm might look like.

Astrid had no idea how the fog worked. It was probably a natural occurrence, and maybe Fishlegs had some theories, but to her, it looked quite unnatural.

No matter. She had gone in once before, and she would again. This was not new territory for her.

Last time, she had entered this fog against her will, and had barely escaped alive. This time, she came to conquer, not to flee, and she would not falter.

Toothless snarled dangerously, staring into the fog, and angled decisively, flying straight at it. He seemed to understand why they had come, and what they were going to end up doing. He had no issues with it. For him, this was probably a mission of vengeance. Hiccup had died here, because of the monstrosity. The rage Toothless likely felt was one Astrid knew and respected, having seen it before in Vikings. He was at least, if not more, determined that this day would end in the death of a monster.

And then they were through the fog line, the world shrinking in around them.

It had begun.

* * *

The fighting did not start immediately. From what Astrid had heard, sometimes nest hunts got unlucky and were ambushed right at the edge, but that did not happen this time. The sea stack maze, eerie and never really silent, echoes traveling far, was devoid of flying creatures in the immediate vicinity.

Aside from Toothless, of course, who circled above the fleet, looking warily out into the distance. Astrid didn't know how far he could see, or what he might be hearing, but she knew it was enough to make him nervous.

This fog made _her _nervous. She could not see their enemies, but she could hear them. Clicking, growling, chirping, and other odd sounds also rebounded through the maze. For all she knew, they were already hearing the nest itself... or they were hearing an ambush force watching from the dark places in the maze, waiting to strike.

Deeper and deeper, leaving the rest of the world behind. The lead ship kept to a fairly straight course, Stoick presumably at the rudder, guiding his tribe himself. They were on track to reach the nest.

But no matter how quiet the Vikings tried to be, they were not silent, and they were going to attract attention.

An unearthly chorus of screeches echoed towards them, bouncing off of the maze corridors. They had been noticed.

Toothless tensed beneath Astrid, and soared a little lower. Any second now-

A blast of white-hot fire flared out from the right of the fleet, and a Nadder was swiftly downed by bola, falling to drown in the water. First blood, in a sense.

Then it began in earnest. A scene out of some nightmare, dragons leaping out of the maze of pillars from all directions, and dropping from above. Fire flared on all sides, and several Nightmares were swooping in from above, about to rain their heavy torrents of flame down on the ships.

Toothless had been waiting for that. Astrid knew it from the way he immediately shot towards those dragons, firing in their midst. The three large Monstrous Nightmares who had been about to decimate the ships below faltered and changed targets, their glowing yellow eyes angry slits.

Astrid did not even think of taking up her ax. Her entire concentration was on keeping up with Toothless, who was now flying evasively. A week of training for this was not enough; she was barely keeping up. Adrenaline allowed her to match him for the moment, but that would not last long.

Then Toothless dropped and began to slalom through the pillars, and Astrid knew they were going to crash.

"I can't do this!" she yelled, trying to get his attention. Her foot was working like crazy, but she couldn't react fast enough. "Try something else!"

Toothless shot back up out of the pillars, firing into the pack of Nightmares once more, this time from the side. One dropped, a tear visible in its wing, and the other two faltered, obviously concussed.

Toothless used that spare moment to warble apologetically before racing towards the Nightmares, this time moving decidedly less frantically.

Astrid knew she was holding him back, but they had no choice. She could not keep up like that. Death by crashing was not how they were going to go, if they had to die here. Especially not before even getting to the nest.

Another blast, this one downing the other two Nightmares. For dragons with such a large reputation, they went down easily enough to a Night Fury's fire.

On that note... she did not know Toothless's shot limit, or if he even had one, or if fire would help against the real enemy waiting for them. She would just have to hope that would all work out.

Toothless brought them back to the fleet, having in the process of thoroughly outmaneuvering the Nightmares gotten a bit far from the action. The fight was going...

Badly. It was going very badly. Vikings were in the water, and burning on the ships, and dead everywhere, though the majority of their forces were not yet out of the fight. Dragon corpses floated, apparently, and some even blocked the way, slowing progress. Nadders fought on the decks, kicking and spiking in turn. Gronckles bombed from above, far more dangerous than they would otherwise be because one good hit would sink a ship. Terrors swarmed individual Vikings, taking out random fighters. There were only a few more Nightmares, and thankfully none had thought to try the same flaming tactic Toothless had prevented, but they were setting whole ships ablaze simply by landing on the decks. The odd Zippleback could be seen strafing, laying down gas for other dragons to ignite, but most of those seemed to be dead already, taken down because of just how dangerous they were.

There was no way Toothless had enough shots to turn this around, and she would dull her ax before she could make a dent in that horde. Dozens of all the common types were swarming every vessel. This was not going to end well.

But... wasn't there a time in which this entire foggy deathtrap had been empty? These dragons fled when their overlord was mad...

And if there was one thing Astrid wanted to accomplish, it was getting that thing mad.

"To the nest," she requested, directing Toothless forward, away from the fight. "We have to get it mad, so that all the dragons will leave." It might be suicidal on their part, but there was no other way. They would have needed a fleet twice again the size of what they brought to have a chance actually fighting off the enemy. If she wanted any of the ballista to make it to the island, this fight needed to end.

Toothless obligingly powered forward, flying just above the majority of the sea stacks, covering in seconds what had taken their little raft hours to traverse, quickly revealing a foggy mountain that was ominously empty.

Hopefully the monstrosity's displeasure would have the same effect as it had last time. Hopefully the dragons would hear it from the fight they had just left behind. Hopefully they would not just redouble their efforts.

But it looked like the entire nest had gone to fight already, so they could not really make things worse. Toothless dove into a hole in the side of the volcano, following another oddly-straight tunnel, and emerging into the nightmarish inner core Astrid remembered so well.

Ledges everywhere, sulfurous yellow fog, and a horrible breathing sound. They circled once, preparing mentally for what they were about to do.

Waking this thing was probably going to be the end of them, but it had to be done.

Toothless roared defiantly, a screech that even now succeeded in making Astrid shiver. That sound was one every Viking knew and feared. But now there was a hint of fear in it, and that was all the more terrifying. The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself was as scared as she was.

A challenging rumble reverberated like thunder up from the depths. A massive, obscenely large head rose from the depths, two tiny eyes looking up at them.

Toothless screeched again and blasted the head, immediately fleeing, flying to the edge of the inner core of the volcano.

A physically painful roar knocked them out of the sky, Toothless slamming down onto a ledge, likely as disoriented as she was. The roar of rage was the same as the one that had driven all the dragons away last time. That part of their plan had gone right.

Now they just had to survive the rage they had brought down upon themselves.

Toothless stumbled to his feet, shaking his head, and leaped off of the ledge, free-falling down into the depths. Astrid gave her concentration over to the tailfin, knowing there was absolutely nothing else she could do to keep them alive. They pulled out and swerved around the large, steaming midsection of the monstrosity-

Just as, Astrid saw by looking back, the ledge they had fallen onto was destroyed, utterly annihilated by a massive, grotesque club of a paw, still dripping magma. The rock crumbled like old cheese, a huge dent in the inner side of the volcano all that was left.

They flew up a little, circling the huge body, staying low. The monstrosity had not seen where they went-

But it knew. A massive torrent of billowing fire passed in front of them, a hundred times larger than the plumes a Nightmare could make, and began to expand, racing towards them.

Toothless flipped and turned in an instant, barely using his tail at all to redirect himself, and they were forced up to flee the boiling inferno behind them, driven back up to where the monstrosity could see them.

They were trapped. They had to get out of the volcano and hope it couldn't follow. But no, that wouldn't work, it had just shown it could crush rock like it was nothing-

Astrid had only an instant to react to Toothless's tensed muscles, but this was a prompt she had understood almost from the beginning, the hitch that meant down. She pulled the tailfin in entirely, and they plummeted, only barely missing another huge blow from a paw, this one scattering massive boulders and carving another huge dent in the rock.

This thing was huge, powerful, and borderline-unstoppable. There was nothing she could do, and nothing Toothless could do.

But... a thought struck her even as another club-like strike pounded the volcano. They might not be able to stop it. Could it stop itself?

A plan occurred to her, the faintest idea blossoming through lack of alternatives. Get it to keep hitting the sides of the volcano, and hopefully last long enough for it to bring the mountain down on itself... and them.

Mutually assured death. That was the best she could hope for now. But they were out of better options, and there would be no more worthy opponent to spend her life on.

"Get it to break the walls!" she yelled, hoping Toothless could hear her over the chaos. "It might not survive bringing this place down!"

Of all times, this was the one where his understanding of her words came into question. He continued to fly evasively, sticking close to the walls, but that could just be coincidence.

Or it could be understanding. Either way, the plan was on for the moment.

Incredibly, they fell into a repeatable pattern over the next few moments, each moment passing slowly but passing nonetheless. Fly up, get in the monstrosity's line of sight, dive, and watch as a new chunk of the volcano was torn out of the walls around them. The massive dragon's paws could only reach so far up or down, so its strikes were all confined to a certain height band of the volcano, meaning that area was rapidly becoming more and more unstable.

It was just slow enough to react that they weren't dead yet. And, Astrid began to suspect, it was too stupid to see the pattern and react to that.

Something about that was horribly ironic. So stupid, but responsible for seven generations or more of war and death. This thing should have been taken down long ago. It would have been, if anyone else could ever have reached it in the first place.

A rumbling sound echoed through the volcano, and Astrid flinched. That was not one of the monstrosity's constant roars. That was different, quieter but deeper and even more ominous, if such a thing was possible. Somewhere, stone was giving out.

She glanced up and saw a few small chunks of rock falling from the distant top of the volcano. They could not fly out there; it was too high, and would take too long. The monstrosity's flame could travel straight up far faster than they could.

Besides, it looked like that exit was about to cease to exist. More and more rock crumbled inward, raining down as a part of the stone began to separate entirely, leaning in-

This place was about to come down on their heads. The monstrosity would never be able to avoid it, but Toothless still might. "Get us out," Astrid begged, knowing it was a slim chance. "If you see a way, take us through it. We're done." There would be no way out, but she had to ask.

Surprisingly, Toothless nodded calmly, swerving to block a half-hearted swing from the monstrosity, which was only now beginning to notice that something was wrong. He dived, aiming down into the fog surrounding the monstrosity's body, to a ledge that looked oddly familiar.

She recognized the faint brown stain on the stone and the circular cave Toothless was diving right at. The ledge they had landed on, the one with a path to the outside, underneath the area the monstrosity had broken.

The sound of cracking stone followed them as Toothless landed and ran full-tilt into the cave, unable to fly because it was too narrow. They could not hide there; magma might splash up and through the tunnel.

Astrid ducked, not wanting to be scraped right out of the saddle by a stalactite or just a low ceiling, suddenly hopeful that they might actually survive this. They just needed to get out before-

Foggy, refracted light had never looked so good, even as gloomy and ominous as it was here at the nest. Toothless leaped out onto the beach of the nest and immediately took to the air once more, banking sharply to get out of the way of whatever might follow them out of the tunnel.

Astrid took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart, watching the volcano intently.

She was treated to an awe-inspiring sight. As she watched, the cone of the mountain began to fold inward, collapsing faster and faster, presumably raining bigger and bigger chunks of rock right onto that horrible monster's huge head, burying it deeper and deeper.

A bright plume of magma shot out of several different caves almost simultaneously, cascading onto the already rocky and lifeless beaches. They had gotten out with only a few seconds to spare.

She could see in her mind what was happening as the volcano finally reached a new stable point, half collapsed and looking like someone had flattened it. The interior would be a mix of magma, rock, and hopefully dead or dying monster. It had done what she and Toothless could never hope to do. It had dropped a good portion of its own home on itself.

They were done. It had to be dead. Nothing moved.

She didn't feel like celebrating. This did not _feel_ over, no matter how obviously dead that thing had to be. She felt like they were not done.

Was there something else? She wordlessly asked Toothless to circle the island, and they did so.

On the far side, she could see-

The fleet! The attack, the one she had originally thought to save by making the monstrosity mad and scaring the dragons off! She had somehow forgotten about them in the hectic moment of immense danger she had just been through.

They were... okay, it looked like, pulling in to land at the nest even as she watched. A Windy Isle ship was missing, and a lot of the other ships were scorched or otherwise damaged, but that was it. Some deaths, but not nearly as many as there would have been.

Toothless flew down and landed on the beach, staring at the nearest ship. Vikings began to dismount, weapons ready... and also began to stare.

A loud rumbling sound echoed behind her, and she knew the mountain was settling into its new position. Nobody but her had ever seen it before now, but it was clear to anyone who looked that it had just collapsed, and now that she thought about it, they had probably heard the fight going on, or at least the monstrosity's part in it.

Okay, so they knew what had happened, more or less. She met their stares, not flipping up her facemask. This still did not feel over.

"What in Thor's name happened?" Stoick asked, leaping off his ship and landing with a heavy crunch on the beach. "And do we need to kill anythin'?" He looked around the lifeless beach, searching for threats and finding none.

"I hope not," she admitted. "We buried the monstrosity in its own mountain. I don't know if it survived or not." She could not be sure. That thing had been living in magma like it was a warm bath, so she had no idea what it could or could not take.

The mountain rumbled again, like the stomach of a Viking who had eaten something rotten. That was not good.

"Let's assume," Thunderguts yelled, "that it's gonna come out fightin'. Ready the ballistae!"

Astrid nodded, turning to look at the mountain. "Aim for the eyes," she advised. "I don't think anywhere else will do any good." Those scales had looked even tougher this time, now that she had managed to get a good look. The eyes were the only thing she had seen that seemed even remotely injurable.

"You heard her," Stoick roared. "Get into formation! Ready your weapons! This fight might not be over!" He smiled at Astrid. "But you've struck quite the opening blow."

"I'd hoped it would be the finishing blow too, really," she admitted. "But the point was to get the other dragons out of here. They won't come back for a while."

"So that was why," Stoick muttered. "Lass, we owe ye quite a bit, but maybe don't tell anyone that. They might get mad that ye stole the fight right out from under 'em."

She wasn't going to argue the stupidity of that, because she could easily imagine everyone doing so. "Got it."

What felt like a minor earthquake hit, the ground shaking beneath them. Rock shifted and fell from the mountain, shattering or bouncing upon impact with the beach.

"Aye, it's not done yet," Stoick asserted, hefting his hammer. "So, how do the rest of us fight it?"

"I have no idea." She could not think of anything for Stoick and the rest to do. "Distract it and try not to die too quickly." This might end up being as big a slaughter as the one she had just prevented, but at least they were fighting the real enemy now.

Vikings leaped off of their ships and began to drive stakes into the beach, pointed outward and prepared for an attack. The effort would be laughably pointless against something as big as the monstrosity, but at least they were doing something.

Then the world began to shake once more. The mountain of rubble shifted, one place facing a ways down the beach beginning to bulge-

Everyone could see what had to be doing that. There were gasps of shock and several all-out screams of terror, though nobody would be able to say later who had screamed. Everyone's full attention was on the fact that something was pushing out of an entire mountain of rock, something big and very, very angry.

"Odin help us," Stoick said quietly, watching the horror push entirely free of the rock. Now he saw what she had failed to truly describe, the thing that was so laughably terrible it could only be believed if it was seen. Too late, but he saw. This was not just another big dragon.

That was as clear as how very, utterly outmatched they were. The monstrosity, now mostly free of its intended tomb, was grey-green in color, and big enough to use a Viking longship like a chew toy. It had large, dark wings folded up on its back, a huge head, four legs, and a club-like tail.

It was also limping, not using one of its front legs, which looked even more misshapen than the rest of it. The tail dragged along the rocks, and for the moment it looked as if it would just collapse and die there.

Then three- three, not one- eyes focused on them. The huge head turned, a total of six eyes glaring down at the pointlessly weak defiance laid out in front of it.

"Ey, at least the thing's hurt," Thunderguts yelled loudly. "Let's finish the job! Ballista, fire!"

Nine relatively tiny bolts soared through the air, arcing towards the monstrosity-

And nine bolts dropped to the ground, shattered and entirely ineffective, having broken upon the dragon's thick scales.

"Alright," Thunderguts yelled, a little less confidently, "Another salvo!"

But there would not be time for another salvo. The monstrosity inhaled angrily, growling so deeply the ground was shaking. Fire was coming.

Astrid vaulted onto Toothless, who immediately took to the sky, barely getting them out of the torrent of fire that scorched the area where they had been standing. It was not nearly so deadly at range in an open space instead of up close in a confined area, but a large portion of the Viking army had to stop, drop, and roll in the painfully sharp shells and rocks.

Then the dragon charged, shambling along, the earth shaking at every step, clearly intending to smash the pitiful resistance before it.

A plasma blast to the head forced it to reconsider its choice of targets. Astrid was almost beginning to think she and Toothless would be doing as well or better if they had come alone, given all they had done so far, they had done without help.

Not to say they were doing well. Toothless flew erratically, keeping in the monstrosity's line of sight but out of range, trying to distract it. This would only last a few more moments, and then it would continue on its path towards devastating the Viking forces.

Said forces launched another volley of ballista bolts, which did exactly as much as the first one had- nothing. They couldn't even hit the head, let alone the eyes!

Then, as if things weren't bad enough, somebody with a strong voice decided to let everyone know about more bad news. "Dragons incoming!"

Astrid, busy keeping up with Toothless's distraction attempts, couldn't even turn to look at the returning hordes. They were done. The dragons coming back so soon was just adding insult to injury.

The monstrosity inhaled, about to scorch Toothless and Astrid out of the sky. They were not fast enough to avoid it this time, their luck having finally run out. Astrid braced herself, hoping that the tailfin wouldn't catch-

Then a small, almost insignificant thing happened. A flaming lump of molten rock struck the monstrosity, hitting its side. It paused, as confused as Astrid and Toothless were. Such a small strike was barely enough to catch its attention, but it had noticed anyway.

Astrid noticed the shouts of 'dragons incoming' had stopped. Had the wild dragons joined the fight, against all reason?

But when she turned to see, she did not see a horde of dragons. A Gronckle and a Timberjack were flying in, alone.

Alone... save for their riders.

She had to blink a few times to be sure of what she was seeing. Toothless wisely flew them out of the monstrosity's range while she recovered, letting the newcomers take over in distracting it.

Fishlegs was riding the Gronckle, buzzing around the monstrosity's head now, yelling at it. He had his hammer, but given he couldn't get close enough on his Gronckle, that made no difference.

The Timberjack was larger and faster but not as maneuverable. Tuffnut, riding astride its sinuous neck, hurled spears, which did even less than the ballista bolts had. At the very least, both teens were keeping the monstrosity confused for the moment.

That would not last. This was still a pretty hopeless fight, but now at least Astrid had something more to work with. Not that the dragons were doing much damage.

She needed a plan.

But she had no ideas. The tools were here, things she could use. Dragons, Vikings, riders, ballista. But she did not know what combination of them was going to somehow do the impossible.

"Get me in close," Astrid requested. "I need to talk to them." They were in the middle of a pitched battle, but she needed a moment anyway. Her mind was not enough, not here and now. She needed ideas, or at least inspiration.

Toothless brought them back into the fight, joining in by swooping in front of the monstrosity's beady eyes, and quickly flying back out of range, dancing on the edge of its reach.

"Fishlegs!" Astrid yelled. "What species?!" He had memorized the book of dragons, and she had skipped the pages that dealt with legends. Maybe he actually knew something.

"What?" Fishlegs screamed back, waving his hammer futilely as his Gronckle buzzed annoyingly behind the monstrosity's head. "Species? I don't know!"

"Call it a Titan!" Tuffnut suggested, tossing another spear. "Or a Death Titan, given it's going to kill us all!"

"Too generic!" Fishlegs yelled right back.

"Well then at least put 'Death' in the name somewhere," Tuffnut argued, gliding closer so that he could aggravate the monstrosity more directly. "Maybe 'Really Big Death' would work!"

Astrid could not take her hands off the saddle, but if she could she would bury her face in them. "I needed to know," she yelled, "if you knew any weaknesses! Not the name!"

"Okay, okay!" Fishlegs directed his Gronckle out to the front of the monstrosity while Tuffnut got in its face and narrowly dodged massive bites in his general direction. Astrid kept Toothless on the other side, roaring at the monstrosity every time it really tried to kill Tuffnut and his Timberjack, keeping its attention divided. The moment it focused on one of the less maneuverable dragons, they were dead.

"We gotta call it something!" Fishlegs yelled.

Really? There was no time to name it!

"Green Death," Tuffnut suggested.

"Fine! For now, Green Death." Fishlegs stared the massive horror he had just named. "Large. Very large."

"We _know_ that!" Astrid screamed, out of patience. "Something new!"

"Hurt, front left leg broken, dangerous tail, powerful armor nothing short of Thor will get through-" Fishlegs looked up at the sky. "Thor? Or a Skrill, maybe?"

"Something _we_ can use." She was beginning to think this was a massive waste of time, but they needed to keep the Green Death, which was just barely a better name than monstrosity, away from the Vikings.

"Eyes! The eyes on most dragons are connected to the brain," Fishlegs shouted. "We need to put something through them!"

Astrid did _not_ want to know how Fishlegs knew that. But she knew one good way to do exactly that. "Ballista bolts."

Fishlegs shrieked quite embarrassingly as the Green Death snapped at him, noticing him despite the other dragons on either side. "Too close! We have to-"

"Trip it!" Tuffnut cut in. "Trip it, and get the ballista to shoot straight ahead!"

That would ensure the ballista could actually hit the eyes at the right angle. Just blinding the Green Death would not be enough; it might even be more dangerous blind, given they were using its sight to distract it. They had to get it right the first time.

But now they had a plan and a method of execution. "Keep it occupied!" Astrid commanded, directing Toothless down to the Vikings. "I'll tell them the plan!"

"What have we been doing?" Tuffnut shouted, waving two spears. "I came with a dozen of these!"

"Keep those, you might need them yourself," Fishlegs advised. "If the ballista fails-"

"Tuffnut, tunnel digger?" Tuffnut asked with a slightly disgusted expression.

Astrid had a strong stomach, but that idea was almost enough to best her, especially when combined with the lightness in her stomach that always came with fast descents. She tried to push that mental image away. It might work, but... gross.

"Oy, what's goin' on?" Thunderguts shouted before Toothless even touched down. "Give us a clear shot!"

"We're working on it," Astrid snapped. "Don't fire until its head is on the ground. We need to drive the bolts through the eyes and to what lies behind them." That should be enough information to both tell the Vikings what to do, and to let them know they'd be dealing the killing blow, which would ensure they didn't complain.

Well, the ballista operators wouldn't complain, anyway. Stoick scowled, running over. "And the rest of our forces?"

"This is not a fight for people who can be stepped on," Astrid retorted. "Chief, there's glorious death, and then there's just being trampled underfoot."

"We'll figure out some way to help trip it," Stoick announced, ignoring Astrid's opinion on the subject. "Also, when did you teach them," and at that he pointed at Fishlegs and Tuffnut, "that?"

"Never," she responded honestly, silently asking Toothless to take them up. That was a question for later, after they all weren't about to die here. A lot of questions for later, really, but she would not look a duo of gift dragons in the mouth.

Back to the Green Death, and back into the line of fire. "All we have to do is trip it and get out of the way," she announced. "Ideas?"

"Fire," Tuffnut immediately suggested. "Burn the good leg." His Timberjack glided out of the way of a plume of fire even as he spoke, only barely avoiding it because the Green Death seemed to be running out. All the fire used in the volcano earlier was coming back to haunt it.

"Against _that_?" Fishlegs yelled, managing to sound skeptical. "I say we ram it!"

"My dragon's wings are made for cutting," Tuffnut objected. "And we can't cut that!"

Astrid considered the leg, the one trembling with the massive amount of weight it was being forced to support. The Green Death still wasn't using its bad front leg or tail, the latter supposedly also helping keep it upright. She was glad those parts were out of commission; they would need more dragons to keep it distracted if it had a totally free range of movement.

But how to knock it down?

She had to check something. "Toothless," she began, "can you take us under it?" She wanted to see the back of its good leg.

Toothless looked back at her, as if unsure she was serious.

She traced a small curve with her finger, and then signalled for him to follow it. "Down one side and up the other before it can think to squish us." They wanted the dragon to collapse, but ideally not while they were under it.

Now Toothless understood. He dove, moving at a high speed to dive just below the massive, thickly scaled underbelly of the beast.

She only got a brief look, one made even briefer by having to maneuver the pedal, but that look was enough. The back of the single leg supporting the front of the Green Death was just as thickly armored as the front. Her hastily-laid plan of having Tuffnut cut into the back of whatever passed for a knee on this thing, while Fishlegs slammed his Gronckle into its side and she blasted the leg, was at least a third impossible.

But... the wounded leg wasn't looking so good, its scale armor cracked and in a few places missing entirely, revealing a very, very cuttable, leathery skin.

That might work. Tuffnut went for the distraction, Fishlegs rammed the back of the good leg, and Toothless blasted...

No. She changed it again, even as they pulled up and neared the time where she would need to commit. Tuffnut to the injured leg, Fishlegs and his Gronckle to slam into the side of the Green Death, and Toothless's blast to the back of the good leg. One to distract with pain, one to unbalance, and one to force the leg to buckle.

That was it. "Tuffnut, Fishlegs! I know how we're doing this!"

"All ears!" Tuffnut shouted frantically, looking as worried as he sounded. "We can't keep this up forever!"

He was right. All it would take was one unlucky strike on either rider to make it near-impossible to keep the Green Death disoriented. They had been lucky at every turn so far, to stay in so much danger without actually getting hurt. She did not want to push that; they could not afford a single loss.

"Fishlegs, ram your Gronckle into its side, Tuffnut cut at its bad leg from behind. But don't do it until I signal. Toothless will fire at its good leg." That, altogether, should do it.

"Who?" Fishlegs shouted.

"The Night Fury, obviously!" Tuffnut supplied. "Got the plan?"

"Sure!" Fishlegs cast a very nervous glance at the Green Death, which was currently watching him with four of its six eyes. "I can do that..."

"Get to it." Astrid directed Toothless around again. At this point, they were both doing the flying, and he was directing her as much as she was him. She gave the general direction, and he gave the thousands of little changes and details that ensured they would not crash or be struck down. They maneuvered to behind the Green Death-

Astrid did not despair as the realization hit her, but it was not a good one. They were going to leave the Green Death without a distraction for a little while, assuming Fishlegs and Tuffnut could even get out of its surprisingly large line of sight. It might try to torch the Viking ground forces again.

That was just going to happen. Maybe if they had a few more dragon-rider pairs, but they did not. Right now she wished Ruffnut was up here, and anyone else who could do it. Hiccup, for that matter. Hel, she'd take Snotlout. Up here there was absolutely no way he could work towards his own vile goals, and another dragon to work with would be worth the annoyance. But all she had was herself, Tuffnut, and Fishlegs. The Vikings were going to take another fiery wave; there weren't enough dragons to stop it.

Fishlegs reached his spot first, his Gronckle hovering a short distance from the Green Death's side. He was ready.

Then Tuffnut performed a daring maneuver, directing his Timberjack close enough to toss a spear at the Green Death, one that actually stuck in a small gap between scales. He used the distraction to drop down, circling around to come at the injured, vulnerable leg from behind.

This was it. The Green Death shook its head, irritated, and seeing a lack of flying targets refocused on the Viking ground forces, which screamed and shouted their defiance, incapable of anything more.

They all just had to hope enough ballista survived that one would make the shot.

Fire billowed across the empty space to engulf a large part of the fleet-

Astrid yelled "Fishlegs, Tuffnut, now!"

Tuffnut directed his Timberjack's sharp wings into the bad leg, his dragon spinning out of control as its flight was so abruptly stopped, as one of its wings was buried deep within a leg far thicker than any tree.

Simultaneously, Fishlegs had his Gronckle tackle the side of the Green Death, a small but dense weight knocking it off-balance.

And Toothless fired, blasting twice at the good leg that was now seriously shaking under the strain.

The plume of fire was cut off as the Green Death's head flung back in agony, and its body slowly overbalanced, falling like a mountainside to the beach. A huge noise that defied description, a thud too massive to fit the simple sound that word described, rippled out like a wave, an actual wave of air knocking Toothless awry.

The head hit the ground last, on its side, six angry eyes staring wildly. They had seconds, at most, before it moved.

"Fire!"

It was such a quiet sound, everyone's hearing badly damaged at the moment, but it rang across the sudden silence like a gruff, unharmonious bell.

Astrid could not hear the ballista firing. She could not even see which were still working; less than nine, as many of the ships moored just off of the beach were going up in flames.

She did not hear or see the bolts striking. Had one hit an eye?

Toothless flew in circles, far from the fallen Green Death, as uncertain as she was. Was it dead?

It stirred, but did not get up.

"Fire!"

Another round of bolts. Vikings were beginning to run towards the huge head, axes and swords held high, intent on finally getting a part of the fight all to themselves.

Tuffnut's Timberjack pulled itself from the large body, somehow uninjured despite going down with the Green Death, and launched into the air, fleeing the scene. Tuffnut dangled limply from its maw, unconscious or maybe dead.

Fishlegs and his Gronckle were running, on foot, moving at an impressively quick pace away from the fight. They were grounded for the moment, or maybe permanently. There was no way to know.

Toothless flew closer, getting a good position to watch as the Vikings assaulted the still-breathing head. The Green Death did not fight back; something must have been damaged inside it, if not enough to kill. The Vikings, undaunted by the size of their enemy, were coming to finish the job.

They were still too far to see the carnage. Astrid did not _want_ to imagine what those Vikings were doing. They only had one weak point to strike at, or more accurately six. Tuffnut's last resort was now being put into action on a large scale.

Then, after a few minutes of that, the breathing slowed. A ragged cheer went up.

As if morbidly cheering with them, the Green Death's ponderous jaw shifted, the rest of its body settling a little more, now totally dead. A cloud of green gas began to drift out from the open mouth-

Astrid did not know whether she or Toothless understood first. All she knew was that they both flicked the tailfins in unison, turning to fly as fast as they could away from that cloud.

This dragon did not work like a Zippleback; whatever internal lighter it had might not need life to function, not so soon after death. Explosive gas was leaking from it on a large scale, and when it was-

A bright light flared behind Astrid, and a wave of sound finished off her hearing. Then a blast of what felt like solid air hit, and she was falling, Toothless was falling, everything was-

The world went black.

_**Author's Note:**_** Why yes, I am being cruel enough to leave it there. Also, sorry for the graphic ending, but at least I decided not to show exactly what Vikings tunneling through massive eyes and into the brain looked like. I'm also working on the assumption that they could do that, but I needed some way to take that thing out, and since I was going with the 'shoot the eyes' bit **_**already**_**, but didn't want to repeat myself...**

**On that note, I think that makes three stories of mine in which the Queen is taken down via the eyes, and three different methods accomplishing it. I need to branch out more in the future. On the bright side, I've got a few more Queen-takedowns up or coming up that are using more... unique... methods, so at least I have some variety.**


	29. The Smoke of Battle

For a few moments, Astrid was back at the nest. Injured, tired, thirsty. Stranded, with no way home. She needed to build-

No. She sat up, her head spinning, and flipped the facemask up, unable to stand wearing it while nauseous. She was at the nest- the lifeless patch of beach in front of her was distinctive- but things had changed. She was not alone. There was no horrible breathing sound emanating from the mountain, and there never would be again. Even if the monstrosity were not dead, there was nowhere inside the mountain for it to go back to. The entire thing had collapsed in on itself.

With that thought, some of her wits returned, and she groaned, looking herself over. Everything ached, but she was not bleeding. Her armor had saved her from being cut to ribbons, as evident by the shells and sharp rocks still lodged in her pauldrons and every other armor piece.

She turned her helmet around, looking at the faceplate. It was scratched, but still entirely intact. The fall must not have been so bad-

Then she thought to wonder where the other person who had fallen was. Toothless. Where was Toothless?

Not in front of her. Not to either side.

She looked back, dreading what she might see. There he was, a black mass that was curiously indistinct, though he was not far away.

She looked up for the first time, trying to look at something, anything more than a few dozen yards away. The air was filled with smoke, a smoke that smelled exactly as the entire nest always had, only more so, which was why she had not noticed it. Visibility was sharply limited. She could see nobody else.

Then again, she didn't care about anybody else at the present moment. She stumbled to her feet, her legs protesting any kind of movement, and ran to Toothless's still form.

His saddle had suffered far worse than her armor. The tailfin was broken in three places, and while some of it looked simple enough to repair, she had neither the knowledge nor the supplies to try it. They were grounded at least until the supply ship got here in a few days, and possibly until they could return to Berk in the Spring.

That was all secondary in her mind, quick assessment done almost automatically. She moved over to his head, hoping he was still alive. She had not seen any deep breathing, but that did not mean he was not breathing.

She put a hand on his forehead, hoping desperately that he would respond. She did not want to lose him, not like this. They had won; he deserved to see the results. She did not want to be the only one of the three who had first come here to live past the end.

As if responding to her desperation, he stirred, his body shifting, leaning to one side-

Then flinching, a pained whine escaping him. His eyes opened, and immediately focused on her.

She gestured for him to be still. She knew next to nothing of battlefield medicine, because her mother _still _had not taught her, but she could at least find the problem and see if he could walk on it. They needed to find everybody else, to maybe locate somebody willing and able to treat a dragon.

Toothless sighed, craning his neck to watch her. He was hurt, clearly, and letting her take over so that he did not have to worry.

She pushed at his left side, the place he had leaned towards before whining. His back leg was okay, and so was his torso, though his whole body was covered in small scratches, mostly on his scales, along with a few shells stuck in him, which she removed as she found them. They left little cuts, a few drops of thick, nearly-black blood oozing out.

Then she got to his left front paw, and she knew what was wrong. Just like the monstrosity, though on the opposite side, his front paw was badly broken. There was not going to be any walking on that.

She moved back over to his head. "I can't treat that," she admitted. "But can you walk with the other three? We need to find someone who can help." She pulled ineffectively at him, trying to make it clear that she needed him to stand.

Toothless nodded, using his good paws and tail to push himself upright, and then precariously balancing on the three paws that were still usable. His bad leg, for it was not just the paw, was held up limply, just barely not touching the ground. It dangled macabrely, clearly broken in several places. It might be fixable, but it certainly looked bad at the moment, and had to hurt.

Which way were they going to walk? There was nothing in the obscuring smoke to indicate where the fight had happened, or where the remains of the fleet was.

Away from the mountain, and thus towards the shore. From there, they would pick a direction, and eventually find the ships. There was no other way, unless one counted wandering through the smoke with no direction, which she did not.

She moved to Toothless's bad side, and after a moment put a hand against his side, pushing up as hard as she thought she could maintain for a while. A small help, very small given how heavy Toothless was, but that wasn't really the point.

He had pushed their raft last time they were here. Now, she would help him move. The duality was not obvious, but it was there. Last time, she had been the one hurt. Now he was.

Toothless rumbled thankfully, wincing and taking a step forward. Astrid stepped with him, still pushing up to ease the weight on his good leg. She had just seen how walking with one bad leg had hindered the monstrosity; helping Toothless balance was as important as easing the strain.

They were not fast, moving like that. Toothless stopped every dozen or so steps, whining softly. Jostling his injured leg was unavoidable, but it had to hurt.

"We're almost there," Astrid asserted, not knowing if it was the truth. "Just a little further." She just had to get him to within sight of other Vikings, and then to find someone who could help, even if she had to threaten their life to get them to tend a dragon. She still had her ax, unused throughout this entire fight, hanging from her belt opposite her helmet.

She would do it, too. She had no problem with the idea of threatening an ally or even a fellow Berkian. Not now, not when it was all too likely they would withhold the help Toothless needed because of what he was.

A dozen more steps, and then a brief rest. She fell into counting the steps, tired but determined to get them to where they needed to go. Just ten more steps... nine more... all the way to one and then zero, and then to the rest. Then the count started over, with no end in sight. Each rest was a victory, as long as they kept going.

She wished she could just let Toothless lie back down and wait where they were, but if she went too far from him without any landmarks, she would not find him again until the smoke cleared, whenever that was. That wasn't a good idea.

Especially because she did not trust anyone who stumbled across an unattended, undefended, injured Night Fury. She would find him dead if she left him alone and out of sight for too long. Dead, and possibly beheaded if the killer thought they could get away with keeping a trophy.

They would die if that happened. She would do whatever it took to make that happen. Toothless was a dragon, but also one of the two people who had taken on the monstrosity on its home turf in order to save the attacking fleet. He _should_ be praised for that, but everyone saw him as, at best, her trained mount.

They would never understand that this fight had not been hers. She had done the planning, but that felt like little to nothing when she recalled all the frantic, borderline impossible flying Toothless had pulled off, with the definite limitation of her working the other half of his own fin. If he had his own fin, she would not have been surprised to see him somehow pulling it off without her. She could not say the same of her own part.

Her mind was wandering, trying to make the time go faster. All they had was pain, the ever-increasing strain of lightening Toothless's weight by what little she could manage, and the small circle of painfully sharp and barren beach enclosed by smoke.

Eventually though, they reached the shore... and out to the right, Astrid could see the singed side of a ship. She had found them, and she could find her way back here if needed.

But she could not leave Toothless alone. So, once he had taken an extra-long break by the water's edge, they continued on towards the ship.

Walking through smoke like this made it all feel like a bad dream. The singed ship, more totally burnt-out husks sitting in the shallows, ice beginning to form on the charred bits sticking out of the water, the weather so cold that still water was freezing almost immediately unless it was moving.

Soon, they began to come across people, Vikings wandering the haze, looking for the injured or just plain looking. Until this smoke let up, nothing could really be done. Nobody knew where anybody was.

There would be dead. All who had rushed the monstrosity's head in that final onslaught, the glory-seekers and worst of the dragon-haters, were all definitely dead. Astrid didn't know how bad the scorchings of the rest of the Viking forces were, but few would have escaped the explosion totally unscathed.

As she and Toothless laboriously made their way down the beach, they began to get looks. Astrid knew they must be quite the sight, a limping dragon and a human holding it up, helping it along. But she was not prepared for the variety of emotions that flickered across the faces of those who saw her.

Fear, disgust, anger, all dulled by the events of the day. But also hope, thanks, or even... was that pity? She did not think the pity was aimed at her, but to think that anyone would pity an injured dragon...

She did not know what was permanent, and what was just a lingering effect of shock, destined to blow away at some point, like the smoke that hung in the air. At the moment, she did not care, either. What others thought was irrelevant.

A familiar shouting sound began to be audible. Astrid felt her pace quicken and then immediately slow back down as Toothless could not speed up. But she knew that voice, shouting orders and doing what needed to be done.

Stoick the Vast's large form appeared in the smoke by the beach, looking out into the cloud that obscured the place the Vikings had made their stand, and likely where many wounded lay, unable to move back to the shore.

"Chief." Her voice felt rough, but she did not mind. She had escaped mostly intact compared to her companion.

Stoick turned in her direction, clearly looking at what to him must be their silhouettes. "Astrid?"

Was it really a question? She coughed, clearing her throat more thoroughly. "Still alive."

"Good." Stoick was staring now, seeing them come into focus, much like she was seeing with him. "Something wrong with the beast?"

She felt a flash of annoyance. Of course; why else would she be attempting to serve as a replacement leg? "A badly broken leg. Someone with knowledge needs to treat it."

"All of our healers are occupied, many are burned," Stoick objected. "And most of them are out in this blasted smoke somewhere, looking for more injured. The beast will have to wait."

Not acceptable. "Sir, he needs treatment now. I will not let him be crippled because it was not set fast enough." She knew how human bones worked, and dragons were infamous for healing fast. If Toothless's bones knit in the wrong way, he would never fully recover. He needed attention _now_.

"Find someone willing to treat it, then," Stoick decided. "But it is not a priority."

Astrid stood there, uncertain of what to do. Toothless could not be left alone lest someone kill him while he lay undefended, and she could no longer really trust the Chief to protect him. She was not feeling very trusting towards Stoick right now; he was not acting in her best interests.

Whatever. So should she ask him to protect Toothless, trust him to give and keep his word, and go out into the smoke? That was a terribly risky plan, especially given Stoick was not likely to linger here if someone called him away.

She could not leave, and she could not stay or wait.

Someone appeared in the smoke, another imposing figure. "Oy, Stoick," Thunderguts called hoarsely. "Are we takin' the wounded 'ere or to somewhere out o' this smoke? I found a few more men to tend them."

"Out of the smoke, along the shore that way," Stoick replied, pointing the way Astrid had come. "Far down that way. This stuff spread far."

"Sir, do you have any healers?" Astrid asked hopefully. "There is one wounded here that needs immediate attention." It was a long shot, but she took it, having nothing to lose by asking.

"Aye, probably." Thunderguts and several of his men appeared, now distinct instead of a dark blur on the edge of Astrid's vision. He looked worse for the wear, and his men, four Windy Isle Vikings, did not look good either.

His eyes lit up when he saw her... and narrowed when he saw what she was doing. "Bad leg?"

"Broken, needs to be splinted and set," she asserted confidently. "But I don't have the knowledge."

"I've got it, Chief?" One of the Windy Isle Vikings suggested, holding up a handful of driftwood and torn tunic. "Gonna do that with the other injured anyway."

"Aye, get to it, and you two help," Thunderguts ordered. The three Vikings he had indicated approached Toothless. "And don't hurt it."

With that reassurance, Astrid felt comfortable standing aside after easing Toothless to the ground, not really moving him so much as guiding him. He seemed to know what was going on. That was a small relief, at least.

The man with the makeshift bandages hesitated in front of Toothless, looking down. "It won't bite my hand off when I do this, will it? It will hurt."

Astrid gestured for Toothless to be still. He gestured acceptance back with his good paw, nodding for emphasis.

"He will be still," she conveyed. "But do not cause unnecessary pain."

The three men got to work, setting their spears and swords aside in the process, within reach but not in the way.

Stoick was watching in approval. "Lucky, for you to just happen to have what it needs," he remarked to Thunderguts.

"Broken bones are common enough, so not tha' much luck," Thunderguts grunted. "Oy, Astrid. Were those Viking hand signals?"

Astrid nodded, walking closer to Thunderguts in order to more easily converse, keeping Toothless in her line of sight at the same time. "Yes. I had to modify some of them."

"Why?" Thunderguts looked confused now. "Surely it can understand the normal ones. I don' know 'em, but I know the look of 'em."

"He can understand them," she agreed, suddenly not wanting to reveal that it was Toothless needing to be able to use them that forced innovation. Thunderguts hadn't noticed, probably because it was so unlikely and could easily be dismissed as twitching, given Toothless's current state.

"Eh, whatever works." Thunderguts stood and watched in silence as his men tended to Toothless's leg, probably waiting because he wanted to go with them to wherever the injured were. It took quite a while.

Finally, the one in charge of splinting the leg stood from his crouching position, wiping sweat off of his brow. "Nasty breaks, those. Set correctly now, and they should heal in time. Also, I can now honestly say my more frustrating patients are more trouble than a Night Fury to tend to."

Thunderguts smiled at that. "Alrighty. Yer done?"

"Tending to it? Yes." The man picked up his weapon, a move copied by the other two men. "We going to keep doing what we were doing?"

"Aye, right about now."

Everything burst into motion without warning. The three Vikings who had just moments ago been tending to Toothless turned on him, their spears at his throat and back in an instant. Thunderguts took one large step forward and grabbed Astrid by the shoulder, his large hand gripping tightly, while his other brought a sword to her throat. The one remaining Viking pointed his spear at Stoick.

Nobody moved. Toothless was not willing or able to fight back, and his eyes were on Astrid anyway. Astrid did not put a hand to her ax, acutely aware she would not even be able to get it out of its holster before dying.

"Lucky I found ye," Thunderguts said ominously. "Given I was lookin' for ye. All three of ye. Bein' together in one place was a nice coincidence."

"Thunderguts," Stoick growled ominously. "This is a bad idea."

"Oy, what do ye think I'm plannin'?" Thunderguts asked, sounding genuinely insulted. "Ta kill the girl and beast and run? Maybe you too? Ye'd be right, that is a bad idea. But I'm not gonna do that."

"But you clearly plan to do something I won't like," Stoick countered, pointing his hammer at the Windy Isle Viking menacing him.

"True," Thunderguts admitted. "But I stopped carin' what you would like a while back. Cooperate, and ye'll live to find out what I mean."

That was ominous, but for all they knew, it was an empty threat. Astrid looked around, trying to figure out what was coming. She could not see Thunderguts' plans, or at least none that would work out well. This made no sense.

She glanced over at Toothless. He looked utterly afraid- not of the very bad spot he was in, no, he looked afraid for her.

Well, he had said Thunderguts was a threat. She should have listened then.

"Here's what's gonna happen," Thunderguts said confidently, not moving from his position menacing Astrid. "You, Stoick, are gonna do nothing. I don' need you."

That was very odd, and it did not bode well for Astrid or Toothless. They were the only other hostages, meaning Thunderguts did need one or both of them.

"And," Thunderguts continued, "Astrid 'ere is gonna come with me. 'Er dragon, too. They're joinin' my tribe."

"That's what you want?" Stoick asked incredulously. "Your tribe is no more comfortable with them than mine is."

"Who cares?" Thunderguts asked happily. "Sorry lass, but I don' know if Speedifist made it out alive, and I'm not gonna take chances. I need ye and yer beast."

Astrid did not shake her head, knowing that was a dangerous move, but she would have if she could. "That's what this is?"

"The first part," Thunderguts confirmed. "I'd not threaten either o' you, but I can't take chances. Don' worry, our tribe is a better fit for the two o' ye anyway."

She wanted to act the Viking, to defy him. But she wanted to get out of this alive, too. So she thought, quickly and frantically, and said what nobody was expecting.

"So just ask. I was going to join you anyway." She cast Stoick an apologetic glance. "Not originally my choice. My parents married me off. But I'm not opposed to it."

Lying to her Chief. She was dishonoring herself. Luckily, she no longer cared, and even more luckily, nobody present knew she would so willingly lower herself.

"Prove it," Thunderguts requested.

"Take my ax," Astrid offered. "From my belt, there. Take my armor too, if you see the need." She stepped just a small distance out, Thunderguts' hand loosening to allow her that, and put her hand to her ax.

"Attack me and the reptile dies," Thunderguts threatened.

"Stupid," Astrid countered. "You would waste what you want?"

"Nobody else in my tribe has any idea how to control it despite efforts to the contrary, so yes," Thunderguts explained. "Better nobody have it if I can't. So no funny business."

"Let me make sure," Astrid suggested, "that he knows that." She held up her hands, clearly intending to gesture.

"Ye'll die the moment it moves," Thunderguts reminded her. "So ye'd better be doin' what ye say."

"Of course." Astrid did not want to look at Stoick. She had to be breaking his trust in her. It would be worth it. She gestured to Toothless. "Stay, do not attack."

What she actually gestured was, 'on my mark' and 'escape.'

He shook his head, gesturing right back. 'Run.'

She repeated herself. "He does not like this, but he will listen. It is our best choice."

"Now disarm yourself," Thunderguts commanded, sounding less suspicious.

Astrid managed a smile, pulling her ax up and dropping it on the ground, firmly out of reach. "There. I'd prefer one of your men get it later. It's not exactly a common ax design."

"Aye," Thunderguts agreed. "So... welcome to the tribe?"

"You'll treat us with respect, and all things concerning how my dragon is housed or cared for are run by me. I will not allow him to be mistreated or separated from me." She met his stare with her most insistent look.

"Agreed," Thunderguts said.

"And I want a healer for myself," Astrid asserted, running her hands under her armguards, rubbing at her forearms. "I took quite a fall."

"You will be hunted as a traitor," Stoick growled, breaking his shocked silence. "There is no going back from this, Astrid."

"Why would I?" she retorted. "Berk has mocked and disrespected me for months. Maybe a Chief who needs me will make more of an effort." That was the truth, really, all else aside. If that was the _only _factor, this might be happening for real.

"Ha!" Thunderguts laughed at Stoick, lowering his sword from Astrid's neck. "Now, my new warrior. We'll go to our ship, and I'll send out some recruitment parties."

"For who? My parents, I assume."

"Aye, them too. And yer dragon-riding friends. Can't leave _them _behind." Thunderguts smiled smugly at Stoick, who was going red with rage. "Ye might have let it happen, but I'm not gonna let you keep it. Windy Isle is going to rise in the world, and Berk is a good first step."

"Coward. You hid like a snake, pretending we were still allies," Stoick gritted. "Instead of declaring war like a real Viking."

"I think, given what I'm takin' from you, neither of us are real Vikings," Thunderguts retorted. "This is somethin' better, stronger. Takin' whatever advantage exists. Who cares about honor? Nobody, once my tribe is on top."

Astrid clenched her fist, feeling a new trickle of blood spring to life in her hand. She turned to face Thunderguts, smiling widely.

A Viking, as Thunderguts had said, did not deceive. They did not plot, they did not sabotage, and they did not assassinate. They fought on open battlefields and hated each other openly. Thunderguts was throwing all of that aside. In doing so, he was stronger, but he was also, at the moment, ignoring something very, very important.

Others might have already done the same.

She shifted the shell that had just cut her hand, the one she had retrieved from under her arm guard, the one with the razor-sharp edge, and jabbed upward at an angle, lunging forward. Her arm met resistance, but she was strong again, and her shell was sharp. She drove it up and forward as far as she could reach, cutting deeply.

Thunderguts, despite his massive bulk, fell backwards like a toppling boulder, striking the ground below him with what sounded to Astrid like a miniature, pathetic version of the monstrosity's collapse, a small thud. His neck bled profusely, slashed open by her strike, the shell still lodged there.

There were thumps, small blasts, and screams of pain behind her. She was not worried. Toothless had been ready, and none of those sounds of pain were his. Stoick must have dispatched the other Windy Isle Viking.

What she cared about, right now, was what she had done. She knelt by Thunderguts' side, looking into his lifeless eyes. So fast, so brutal.

There was no honor there. He had not died in battle. He had claimed he no longer cared for any of that; would he feel differently were he around to know his death had been like this? He was not going to Valhalla.

She had no honor, either. She did not care.

A heavy hand fell on her shoulder, and she flinched away, not wanting to be reminded of what she had just done. She absently turned to face Stoick-

Only to almost cut herself on the ax Toothless was eagerly presenting. He warbled at her, though it was a muffled sound thanks to what was in his mouth at the moment.

She took the ax, conveying her thanks with her eyes, and wondering how he had moved so quickly and silently with a hurt leg. Then she turned the rest of the way, ax in hand, to face the consequences.

Stoick's face was troubled. He looked down at Thunderguts' dead body, and then at her. "This was..."

"Dishonorable, terrible, and entirely necessary," she summarized, her free hand finding Toothless's head.

"Aye, necessary." Stoick scowled at her, before slowly beginning to smile. "Ye had me goin' there. I never knew ye could act."

"I can't," she revealed. "I just said what I would have had I not had that shell up my armguard."

Stoick's new smile faded as he took that in. "And what would your plan have been then?"

"Join him, for a time," Astrid explained, entirely aware of what she was admitting. "Get my parents to somewhere safe. Maneuver to win his trust. And then, one night, to circumvent whatever he did to stop me, get my parents out from under his control, and to leave with Toothless. In the meantime, I'd do whatever he asked, only mitigating the damage as much as could reasonably be explained away."

"He would have you strike at Berk," Stoick said dangerously. "You would have done it, to some extent."

"I would not have come back to Berk," she explained quietly. "I know there would be no place for me there in that case." Even if she had managed to avoid killing anyone, striking at the village was not something anyone could forgive. In that hypothetical, there would be no going back.

"That is treason." Stoick crossed his arms.

"Sir, he was not the smartest," and now, thinking about it, she saw other flaws in Thunderguts' plans, "but he was right about a few things. Throwing away honor and the Viking way and all the rest of that stuff does make someone more dangerous. But there needs to be something left to hold to." She pointed at Toothless. "I long ago realized as much myself. I hold to my own conscience. Nothing more."

"And how am I supposed to ever trust you again?" Stoick asked, sounding truly confused and frustrated. "Do you expect me to ignore that? We are Vikings! The honorable path-"

"Would have been to use my ax, to try and kill him, and to let Toothless die, Sir," Astrid gritted. "My conscience tells me that I will not sacrifice my friend's life when there is another path."

Stoick hefted his hammer, staring at her with a new look in his eyes. "I cannot have someone with no regard for our way of life among my people." The unspoken addition was that he would have been happier had she kept her new outlook to herself.

"But you were fine with me as long as I only broke all that was normal in helpful ways?" she asked pointedly. "I consider Berk home. I protect its people even if they don't like or approve of me or mine. I did not and do not want to leave."

Then she pointed out into the smoke. "And out there, somewhere, are others who do what I do, somehow. I taught them nothing. How do you think they did it?"

Stoick looked away, his hammer drooping. "They are like you?"

"No," she said, surprising him. "I don't think so. But they cannot be led by anyone who will not bend the Viking way however needed to adapt. Who will lead them?"

"I am Chief-"

"And you are going to banish the one who inspired them. The one who admits she will never again be like everyone else." Astrid didn't really know where she was going with all of this, but she knew there was something down this path. "Even though the only things driving me are doing what I think is right, and protecting your own people."

"I cannot trust anyone who will disobey me at will," Stoick murmured. He was basically repeating himself in a slightly different way, as if coming back to the same integral issue over and over again.

"No, you just can't give me tasks you know I'll think are wrong," Astrid countered. "I still obey you, Chief... unless you force me not to."

They lapsed into silence for a few moments.

Then Stoick sighed, a long and powerful exhale. "Hiccup was like you, wasn't he." It wasn't really a question.

"Probably," Astrid agreed, knowing it was true. Toothless had helped her understand herself, and it stood to reason he had done the same with Hiccup.

"Things are going to change," Stoick continued.

"And you can either use it, or be left behind by it," Astrid concluded. "Thunderguts knew that. He didn't want to be left behind."

"You do what is right, by your own judgement," Stoick remarked, sounding a little less unsure of what to do. "And you will hold to honor and duty if possible."

"If at all possible. But not when that will lead to something I cannot allow." She really didn't know if Stoick was going to accept her. She had laid herself and her new mentality bare to the one person capable of banishing her from her home for it. That might have been a mistake...

But after what she had done to Thunderguts, killing him in the most unvikingly way possible, she knew she had to explain herself completely. At least this way Stoick's distrust was based on truth, not on whatever motives he might have ascribed to her actions. He knew who she was. Whether or not he could accept that was now in his hands.

And if he could not, it was not the end of the world. She could leave. Her family could stay or leave as they chose. She did not want to, but in the end there would always be something more. She was herself, and as long as she lived, she had enough to move on with. As long as Toothless lived with her, she had a friend to do it with. That was more than she really needed, in the end.

"Tell nobody else of your new... way of life," Stoick ordered. "They would have me Outcast you, and I would not be able to say no. We are Vikings, in name and in heart."

"And I am a Viking in name," she agreed, scarcely believing he was going to allow this. "Loyal to you as long as you do what is right. I think that should be good enough."

"Aye, I suppose it is." Stoick looked down at Toothless. "Also... Toothless?"

Had she said that name? Probably. "Hiccup named him that."

Stoick sighed again, this one filled with old pain. "Of course he did."

"He'd be proud," Astrid asserted, hoping she was right. Stoick had accepted more than anyone ever would have guessed, in the end. Whether the same could have been said if Hiccup had not died... she didn't know, and didn't really think it mattered

"That's all I can hope for," Stoick agreed. "Him and Val telling me 'you did well' when I join them in Valhalla some day."

At that, she would not mind as much herself, were she to end up in the same place as Hiccup. But that was a thought for far later in life. She had not died here, and she did not intend to waste the rest of her life.

_**Author's Note:**_** I hope Thunderguts' betrayal didn't come as too much of a shock; it really shouldn't have. (And for those of you who will say his plans were badly thought through, yes, they were. That's a character flaw we'll be seeing more of before this story is over.)**

**Also, to the guest reviewer who asked, no, we won't be seeing 'Hiccup's ghost' or any other permutation of Hiccup in the remainder of this story. Seriously, why would we? He hasn't played a part in this story since the first chapter, and this story has at no point in the past allowed anything clearly supernatural to occur. There's a reason he's not even in the main characters listing; he doesn't play any direct role, **_**especially **_**here at the very end. Honestly, I find it a little strange that some people are so desperate for him to come back in some form; if you've gotten this far, surely you understand that this story is built around him **_**not **_**being present?**


	30. Out of Sight

_**Author's Note: **_**Special thanks to **_**DeadlyBagel, **_**who looked over the last three chapters in this story at my request, and helped ensure that the end wasn't an anticlimactic letdown. This story was my attempt at self-editing without a beta reader, and for the most part I'm happy with my improvement in that department, but some things are too important to let slide, and the ending of a story is certainly one of those things.**

"What now?"

The moment of indecision had passed. Stoick had decided that he could work with the person Astrid was now. The important question raised by this whole encounter with Thunderguts had been answered.

That did leave what Astrid had asked, one hand supporting Toothless, if only a little, and the other on her holstered ax. What now?

That question also applied to several things. Thunderguts, Chief of the Windy Isle tribe, which made up at least half of the Vikings at the nest, was dead, and he had not been killed in the battle. That would have consequences.

It also applied to the entire situation. The ice, miraculously enough, still had not set in, and the supply ship was coming. Would they stay here and rough it, as had been planned, or would they risk trying to get back to Berk while the freakishly lucky weather lasted?

Both of those questions would be answered by Stoick, which was why Astrid was asking him. He was in charge, and she also felt that asking him would reassure him that she really did still look to him for leadership.

Stoick looked down at Thunderguts' dead body. "We do what any Viking would do, and yell what Thunderguts planned to do across the whole island. After, of course, we get our forces together."

Another, even bloodier battle, fought in the midst of the destruction caused by the last one? Astrid could think of nothing worse than that. "Or you could forget about all of this and let me handle it." Stoick knew she would be able to do what he could not. She could hide the bodies and lie, pretending Thunderguts and his men had just disappeared.

"Or we could compromise," Stoick offered, wincing at her suggestion and what it entailed. "Announce the truth, but not until I have men in good positions, so good that there is no way Thunderguts' people will stand a chance. Whether they fight anyway or decide to live another day and return to their families will be their decision."

That would be good. At best, an uneasy truce, and at worst, Berk would not lose many more of its people. "Deal. After the smoke lifts?"

"Nobody will be able to find the bodies until then if we move them a little further inland," Stoick reasoned. "We can postpone everything until then."

Astrid nodded. "You'll be doing the dragging," she admitted. "Toothless is in no condition to help, and I'm not going to be able to either." These five Vikings, especially Thunderguts, were massive, and promised to be extremely heavy. Besides, she was battered and bruised.

"Aye, I know." Stoick gestured down the beach. "Go join the other injured. Keep the dragon close, and don't let down your guard. I'll handle the rest."

"Got it, Chief." Astrid slowly turned with Toothless, knowing her help was still minimal but offering it anyway, and they started down the beach. It was going to be a long walk, and a long day.

The rest of that day passed slowly. Astrid and Toothless lay on the desolate beach, sitting off to the side of the other injured, both for their peace of mind and hers. She could tolerate the pained groans and moans of the wounded, most of whom were burned, many severely, but she would rather not be right there among them.

She had checked the ranks of the injured when they arrived. Her mother was there, asleep with a small burn across her chest, but her father was not to be found. He was either uninjured, lost in the smoke, or dead, and she did not know which. She could only watch the hazy cloud of smoke and wait.

Said smoke was slowly drifting up and out to sea, but it was such a massive cloud that it was not gone by the time night fell, hastened by the ever-present fog that clouded over the entire maze.

That fog was still a mystery. Astrid leaned up against Toothless, staring up into the blank night sky. Did the sun ever shine on this place, or did the fog always block it, like it was blocking the stars right now? She didn't know, and given how Winter went in the archipelago, even a few months here might not really answer that question. They did not often see the sun in the Winter.

Eventually, Stoick came out of the smoke, following the coast. He began talking to certain, less injured Vikings, all from Berk. Each one showed no real sign of anticipating further battle, but they all cast around for and retrieved their weapons. As the night passed, the remnants of Berk's forces regrouped and then dispersed, mingling in the crowd of wounded.

* * *

An angry yell woke Astrid. She tried to sit up, only to find that Toothless's head was across her lap. He was still soundly asleep. She did not force him to wake, trying to make sense of what she had heard. If it was just some random person yelling as a broken bone was splinted or a burn was accidentally mishandled, she could go back to sleep.

"Our Chief was murdered!"

No, not just some random outburst. She reluctantly woke Toothless, scratching behind his ears and talking to him. "Up, things might be getting serious." She knew he was an alert predator, and even now that was enough. It would be enough to wake most human warriors, when they were sleeping in potentially unfriendly territory. She was pretty sure Toothless was fast enough to turn on and kill any attacker before they could get a second blow in, even if the first was taken while he was asleep.

Sure enough, his eyes slid open almost immediately. He shifted, letting her sit up.

She did, looking around. It was still night, or maybe early morning. The smoke cloud seemed to be more or less gone.

And there were three limping Windy Isle Vikings causing a commotion, shouting about how their Chief had been murdered.

Stoick stepped in almost as soon as Astrid located the ones spreading the news, literally stepping up beside them, clearly wary of their weapons, like he was expecting an attack from them. Which he very likely was.

"Yes, he is dead." Stoick was yelling at the top of his lungs. "After trying to kidnap one of our wounded warriors! They fought back, and he fell. I will not say who he attacked," and at that Stoick glared at the entire crowd, Berkians and Windy Isle Vikings alike, "and I will not tolerate fighting here. We came as allies, and that will not change here."

That was... an interesting way of looking at it, actually. By those words, Stoick was basically promising that he'd let the Windy Isle Vikings go home whenever that was an option, instead of taking advantage of their lack of leadership to take control.

Berkians all through the crowd of injured Vikings lifted weapons, caught the eyes of the Windy Isle Vikings around them, and then deliberately put them down, out of hand but not out of reach.

That was what Stoick had been setting up. A message, sent in a very Viking way. Fighting would not be allowed, but if it was, the Berkians were not going to lose.

But the Windy Isle Vikings were not pushovers. Angry, persistent muttering began to weave its way through the crowd, even as dawn, grey and cold though it was, began to arrive, the world slowly fading out of darkness.

Astrid was pretty sure nothing would come of the dissent she could hear. Thunderguts had been such a powerful leader, and he had no obvious second in command. From the very little she had heard from Helga on the subject, he had kept many advisors, some of which were likely dead, others still missing, and a few scattered throughout this crowd, injured or tending to injured. Nobody was going to lead some charge of vengeance anytime soon.

Another thing nobody was going to do soon was eat. Food was far too scarce. As for water… There was a small amount of water, purifying contraptions set up a bit further down the beach, large kettles of seawater being boiled by fires fueled from pieces of driftwood, the clean steam rising from the pot to be caught and condense in a tarp over the pots, and destined to drop down into various containers. It was nowhere near enough for all of them long-term, but it would be enough until the supply ship arrived, laden with, among other things, far more similar contraptions to increase water production, and stores of ready-to-drink well water from Berk. Ideally, they would also get around to digging wells here, too.

All assuming Stoick did not decide to ready the ships and test their luck to the utmost, betting on this uncommonly late first freeze to stay away for another week as they sailed home. That would be the risky move, for sure.

As the world became about as light as it was going to get, the sky as cloudy as it always was here, Stoick made another announcement. "All who are able, scour the area covered by smoke yesterday. We need to ensure there are no more survivors out there, waiting for help."

That was what those three Windy Isle Vikings had probably been doing, but now the search was rejoined in earnest.

Astrid felt a sudden desire to find her father, who was still missing. But she did not trust anyone enough to task them with guarding Toothless, and she definitely didn't trust the crowd around her to leave him alone while she was gone.

"I want to find my father," she whispered, "but I can't leave you. Feel like taking a walk?" She would not convey that in gestures, not even as a request. It was a half-thought-through desire, not a plan. If Toothless did not stir, or otherwise declined, she would not press it, even if that only meant he had not understood what she was asking.

But from the way he looked up at her, judging his options, she knew he understood. So, when he stood with a groan, still favoring his now heavily bandaged and immobilized leg, they both knew where they were going.

* * *

It was a long walk, though this time Toothless did not stop for breaks every so often, moving slowly but steadily. They joined the dozens of other searchers combing the chaotic section of beach.

Burned and broken stakes littered the area. There were a few cooled lava slicks, places where lava had spurted from the collapsing mountain. Abandoned weaponry and armor was everywhere... and there were bodies. Not so many, but enough that Astrid did not want to look too closely at any glint of metal that took the shape of armor or clothing, knowing that it might contain dead and burned flesh. She forced herself to look anyway, to discern that the one within was not still living.

Anyone out here would have spent the day and the night in the smoke, unable to find anything, or unable to move. They would be miserable, possibly dying or unconscious. Those few shouts of surprise when someone living was found in the rubble were all too rare.

And interspersed throughout all of it, the aspect making this truly difficult, were large chunks of scale, ranging from the size of a chestplate to the size of a Yak, scattered everywhere, the remnants of that powerful coat of natural armor the Green Death had possessed.

Astrid noted, with a grim feeling of satisfaction, that the scales, while differing in thickness, were all far too thick for one of those bolts from the ballista to even go all the way through. The eyes really had been the only good way to take it down.

The problem with those scales was that anything could be beneath them, and each one had to be shifted to check under. There was also no way to know if the scale she was checking at any given time had been checked before, meaning that for all she knew, she could just be wasting her effort, checking something someone else had already gone over.

This was going to be a long and draining task. Astrid stood on one of the larger scales, gaining a foot or so of height, and scanned the area. No large lumps, no dead dragons-

Odd, that. She looked down at Toothless, who looked back up at her questioningly.

Where were the Gronckle and Timberjack? All else aside, they were too big to be totally covered by any of these scales, unlike a human. They weren't here, but they also weren't loitering anywhere else that Astrid could see. Had they flown off to rejoin the other dragons at some point? And if so, what had happened to their riders?

She did not know enough to even guess at that. For all she knew, the Timberjack and Gronckle had dismembered Tuffnut and Fishlegs and thrown the remains into the ocean before fleeing the scene. That felt unlikely, but she couldn't even rule it out. It was possible.

Time passed. She grew thirsty, but she ignored it. Toothless was probably as parched as she was, but she did not want to go back for water yet, anticipating an argument over letting the dragon have any, given how scarce it was. As long as she did not drink either, she could fairly keep them both out. Later, when nobody was looking, she would sneak some for him, and get some for herself more publicly.

For now, she needed to-

All around her, other searchers began to look out to sea and point. She turned, wondering what they saw.

The answer was obvious. Two ships, floating low in the water, were emerging from the sea stack maze, headed their way. The supply ships, here early. They had to have only left a day after, not the two they had been told to wait.

The search seemed to be temporarily called off, searchers gravitating towards the approaching ships. Astrid didn't want to stop looking... But a brief break, and a quick check over the injured to be sure her father had not already been brought in would be nice. She turned back in the direction of the approaching ships, walking alongside Toothless, not wanting to leave him behind.

* * *

By the time Astrid and Toothless, moving as slowly as they were, made it to the shore, the ships were landing, running just aground enough to not float back out, but not so aground as to be difficult to push back out to sea when the time came. There were also crude anchors dropped, but any halfway-intelligent Viking knew to be very, very careful with landing or docking in the Winter. Storms could take any weakness and use it to devastating effect.

Once the ships were secured, people began disembarking, carrying sorely-needed supplies with them. These were the reserves, the older men and women who had been held back because they would not be that much use in a real battle, but they were still active and able to bring supplies. They all gaped at the nest, but practicality and Stoick's orders quickly set them to work, along with quite a few of the minorly injured and those who had been searching.

Astrid, unwilling to leave Toothless's side, did not join in. She was thus in the perfect position to see something of the conversation that was about to take place.

Gobber leaped off of one of the ships, and firmly landed with foot and peg on the nest. His first action was to grin and do a victory jig, kicking shells everywhere. Astrid was just glad he did not sing; Gobber's singing was the stuff of nightmares.

"Ye did it!" Gobber yelled to nobody in particular. "And I missed it!" Said equally gleefully, as if he had come to terms with that. "Oh, the stories I'll tell anyway!"

Stoick walked up to him, grinning despite himself. "We'll all call you out."

"Eh, you'll be too drunk to care, and besides." Gobber idly twirled his hook. "Give it a few years, and I'll have 'alf of Berk convinced I was there."

"You won't have much to tell either way, old friend," Stoick countered. "We didn't do anything."

"So... what am I lookin' at, then?" Gobber scratched at his beard stubble. "Ye all injured and burned yerself in the afterparty?"

"I'll explain later," Stoick decided. "Right now, we need to figure out whether we're sailing back or not."

"Not," Gobber said decisively. "We left when we did because Bucket started actin' up, and ye know how he can predict storms with his bucket. Ice was formin' around the sea stacks as we passed 'em, and we had to keep movin' through the night for the last two days, else we wouldn't 'ave made it. No sailin' anywhere. It'll hit here full-on by tomorrow."

Astrid noted just how bitterly cold it was, and did not feel inclined to disagree with that prediction. The weather was finally getting to where it should have been a week ago. There would be no more sailing for a long while.

But maybe there would be flying? She knew just how fast Toothless was, and was confident he could get back to Berk if a Gronckle with Fishlegs riding had somehow made it here. She would have to ask Fishlegs how they did it... and get Gobber to fix Toothless's rig... but it would be doable.

Not that she wanted to go anywhere, or knew where Fishlegs was, or knew for a fact that Gobber even could fix the broken parts of the prosthetic. It just wasn't impossible.

"So we settle in," Stoick decided. "Got everything?"

"Aye. Tools, tents, water, water-makin' supplies, and a lotta yak jerky, among other things," Gobber reported. "It'll be tight, but we can make it 'till spring if we ration carefully."

"Good. Anything else?" Stoick looked to the sky, as if checking for something. "Like, for instance, explaining why your new apprentice flew in and helped save the day yesterday, and is nowhere to be seen today?"

Gobber's jaw dropped. "Flew in? Did 'e grow wings?" He held out his hand and flapped his fingers, putting the hand to his own shoulder to illustrate what he meant.

"Only if he also grew the rest of the Gronckle," Stoick answered seriously. "And I don't know-"

"Eh... did a Timberjack also show up?" Gobber asked curiously. "But nothin' else?"

"Aye."

"We saw two now very coincidentally-shaped silhouettes on our way in, diving into and out o' the water by one of the sea stacks," Gobber explained thoughtfully. "Too far away, so we didn't mess with 'em. At least now I know what those odd shapes on their back and neck were."

"That sounds like them." Stoick frowned. "And no, I have no idea where the other dragons went. They hopefully won't be coming back."

At that... Astrid didn't know if the flocks of dragons the Green Death had temporarily scared away yesterday _would_ come back. Maybe this place was a prison for them, one they had finally been set free of. The Gronckle and Timberjack certainly hadn't minded fighting the dragon who was supposed to be in charge.

"Well, the two ye mentioned will be back sooner or later," Gobber decided. "Oh, and Tuffnut was the other rider, right? That boy's full o' surprises recently."

"What do you mean?"

Gobber froze. When he answered, it was with great reluctance. "I got a story for ye, Stoick, and yer not gonna like it." With that, he led Stoick away, out of eavesdropping range, and away from the general crowd working to unload things.

What did Gobber have to say about Tuffnut? He had sounded pleasantly surprised about whatever Tuffnut had done, but at the same time unhappy with the story itself... and none of that involved dragons, because Gobber hadn't known about that.

Astrid wished Toothless's tail was fixed so that they could fly out there and question Tuffnut immediately. As it was, they had to wait until he and Fishlegs came back to the nest to do that.

But she did not have to wait to keep looking for her father. She led Toothless back to the now somewhat larger crowd of injured Vikings, looking around as she did. There were new faces, more gravely wounded Vikings only now found, and sweaty, tired people helping them however possible. A few of the more badly wounded were clearly dying, and nothing could be done for them.

None were her father. She left Toothless for just a few seconds, keeping him in her line of sight, and walked into the rows of injured Vikings, seeking her mother. Maybe Asa was awake, and maybe she could tell Astrid what had happened to her father, where to look.

She saw Asa, with a Viking bending over her, tending to her chest. Then the Viking looked up, and Astrid's worries melted away. Her father was already here, and well enough to tend to his wife.

"Dad." She came closer, entirely aware that she could not stay here long without leaving Toothless dangerously alone, though he was more alert today, and capable of at least fighting back if someone harassed or attacked him.

"Astrid," Sighvat sighed. "Where have you been?"

"Here," she replied. "Well, I've been helping look through the debris this morning, but I was here before that."

"I saw your dragon curled up around its saddle, but I did not see you," Sighvat explained.

Curled up around the saddle that had not yet left his back? Astrid smiled faintly. "That was me, not a saddle." An easy mistake to make when she and the saddle were both the same colors and general size.

"Oh." Sighvat cracked a similar smile. "So we just missed each other."

"How is she?" Astrid asked, looking down at her still sleeping mother.

"Moderately bad burns, and a few cuts you can't see because they're on her back," Sighvat explained. "She should be fine, though there will be scars. And you?"

"Bruises, nothing more. Toothless broke one of his legs pretty badly, but he's been seen to." She realized after she had spoken that her father had never heard that name before...

But he didn't comment on it. "Good. Any news on anyone else?"

"That's pretty vague." She wasn't sure what her father was asking.

"Do you happen to know if Speedifist is alive?" Sighvat clarified. "I would think you would have noticed, one way or another."

So that was it. She still did not understand her parents' determination to keep that marriage going, but it _definitely_ wasn't happening now. "I don't know either way, and it doesn't matter." She lowered her voice. "You know Thunderguts is dead?" A quick glance back at Toothless reassured her that he was fine waiting on the outskirts a few moments longer. "He tried to kidnap me. Stoick will never let Windy Isle have me, under any circumstances." Or any other island, but the important thing was that the Chief would never allow the marriage.

"And... Stoick killed him?" Sighvat asked, sounding like he knew that was not the case.

"I did," Astrid freely admitted. "We can talk about this later. But for now, all that really matters is that it's over, and I'm not marrying Speedifist no matter what." That, at least, had worked out fairly well. "I have to go help with... something." Either the unloading or the continued search. Probably the latter, as Toothless could not do anything with the former.

Sighvat nodded reluctantly. "Come back to us tonight. We have things to discuss, and the healer said your mother should be up by then."

So this was not over. Astrid nodded in turn. "I will." And she would put an end to the idea of marrying her off, if at all possible. By the end of today, she wanted to not be worried about that part of her future.

* * *

For the next few hours, Astrid and Toothless continued to assist in searching the chaotic battlefield. Astrid was not so driven to search without rest now, knowing her father was safe, but she could still help, and Toothless seemed to almost prefer moving. Maybe walking distracted him from his very likely aching leg. She let him rest as much as he wanted, but he always chose to keep going, no matter how clear she made it that they could stop for good whenever he wanted. Maybe he understood that they might save a life if they kept looking.

They did not end up finding anyone still alive. Those cases were tapering off. Only one more survivor had been found in the last few hours, even with more searchers than before. By the end of today, they would be done looking for the living. There were simply no more to be found.

Astrid had no good way to know how many people they had lost, both in the frantic battle amid the maze of sea stacks, and later in the conflict with the Green Death. She just knew that everyone she cared about was still alive, and that Berk would not suffer too much from this fight in the long-term.

Eventually, night falling, she and Toothless began picking their way back to the makeshift camp that was being erected around the injured. Tents were pitched, fires started, and food shared among people. Later, when things got more organized, old rivalries and tensions might flare up, but under the mounting pressure of surviving the coming Winter, which people were clearly beginning to really take seriously, nobody wanted to fight. Even the Windy Isle Vikings pitched in where needed, likely as much to ensure they got their fair share of the supplies as to help. The result was the same.

But before Toothless and Astrid could truly make their way back to the camp, two dragons appeared from between the sea stacks, flapping heavily, or in the case of the Gronckle, barely flying in a straight line, with two tired riders on their backs.

Strangely enough, both dragons came to set down between them and camp, blocking their way. Tuffnut hailed her from the Timberjack's neck.

"Hey, long time no see!"

"Where were you?" She was a little amused by how nonchalant he was, but she hid it, letting her practical side show her annoyance. "You two should have been here, helping out. You're not injured."

"We had some technical difficulties," Fishlegs admitted.

"Basically, we spent the day trying not to be kidnapped and torn apart by wild dragons," Tuffnut added. "These guys," and at that he patted his Timberjack's long spiral horns, "wanted to go wherever the other dragons went. We didn't like the idea of being torn limb from limb by the other, less friendly dragons. It was a bit of a process."

"It took forever to figure out how to convince them not to," Fishlegs groaned. "But we managed it eventually."

She really couldn't fault them for that. "Well, I think the Chief wants to see you," she relayed. "But he's not going to be too hard on you." If he had accepted her, he would definitely accept what Fishlegs and Tuffnut had to offer. They were still Vikings at heart, if ones who bent what the term meant in one way or another.

"We're heros, why would he be tough on us?" Tuffnut asked defiantly.

"We rode in on dragons?" Fishlegs quavered.

"Mind explaining that?" Astrid requested. "And maybe coming down? Toothless and I have to walk anyway."

"Sure, my legs are killing me." Tuffnut slid off of his dragon's neck and dropped to the ground. "That's gonna bruise." Fishlegs followed suit. "As to how we did it?"

"Don't ask me," Fishlegs volunteered. "I just did what Tuffnut did."

"And I did what you told me," Tuffnut explained. "Well, kind of. You said the key was treating him like a person. I figured that made sense, because if there was one thing Vikings would never think to try, it would be that."

Mutual respect for the 'demons', the 'monsters', the 'filthy beasts.' Yeah, that would never cross any normal Viking's mind without a very strong push in the right direction.

"So," Tuffnut continued, "I got anyone who would listen, which was just Fishlegs, and tried it out. It worked. Took a few days to work the kinks out, and then we were off!"

"No testing, no safety, no backup," Fishlegs complained. "Flying most of the day on a Gronckle that tried to kill me a month ago, and then fighting a dragon that wasn't even in the book of dragons."

One day? That wasn't bad at all, and that was on a Gronckle. The world suddenly felt a lot smaller. That was seven times faster than a ship. But as for how they had done it... "So you just tried it and it worked." Surely it could not have been that easy. Something was different here, for that to have worked.

"Yup." Tuffnut rubbed his dragon's snout, and it hummed deeply. "We're cool."

Astrid took a long moment to look into the Timberjack's eyes, wondering what she would see.

She took more than a moment, in the end. Several. Long enough that she was obviously staring. With Toothless, emotions were close to the surface, obvious, at least to her. But here…

She shook her head, feeling tired and confused. Now was not the time to be wondering whether Toothless was different from other dragons, even if she couldn't see nearly the same understanding in this particular dragon's eyes. It was intelligent enough to put aside past mistreatment and fly Tuffnut out here, into battle, and anything past that wasn't important for the time being.

"Astrid. Midgard to Astrid," Tuffnut repeated, waving a hand in front of her face.

She batted his hand out of the air. "Here. Sorry, I got distracted."

"Did you take a hit to the head?" Fishlegs asked worriedly, looking at her more closely. "Are you dizzy? What's your name?"

"No, no, Astrid Hofferson," she replied in turn. "I'm fine, I just have a lot on my mind. Such as what happened back on Berk that has Gobber looking so solemn."

"We've been told not to talk about it," Fishlegs said apologetically.

"True that," Tuffnut agreed, sounding more than happy to drop it. "Say, Fishlegs," he continued, "think a Gronckle would be helpful over at the ships? Those pallets look heavy, and you were just talking about how much yours can lift."

Fishlegs looked over at his mount, and the stubby brown Gronckle looked back at him. "We can try… What about you?"

"I'll walk Astrid back, be a proper Viking gentleman, all of that," Tuffnut said neutrally. "Go."

"It might help get you and your dragon into Stoick's good graces," Astrid offered, suspecting she knew what Tuffnut was doing, and why.

"You think? In that case, I'm on it!" Fishlegs and his Gronckle buzzed off.

"That was too easy," Tuffnut complained, hopping back onto his dragon's sinuous neck and leaning back, putting his hands behind his head. "Anyway, want the story?"

"Hit me," she requested.

"Literally, or…" He lifted his hand in anticipation.

"Figuratively. What does Gobber not want you to talk about?" She hoped it wasn't anything too bad; Berk would be bereft of their Chieftain for the next few months.

"So," Tuffnut said quietly,sitting up and looking over his shoulder as if wary of someone sneaking up and overhearing him, though that was unlikely given he was sitting on a Timberjack, "as it turns out, Thunderguts isn't a good ally. He left some of his people behind, right?"

"The women and children…" And now that she thought about it, why _had _he brought any of those on what Stoick had definitely said would be a war trip?

"Yeah, them." Tuffnut shook his head. "Long story short, some of the same guys Snotlout was palling around with had orders directly from their Chief. All of the Elders were attacked the night after you all left. Spitelout is dead, and Mildew is happier than he's been in years."

"What?" Thunderguts _had _said something ominous about them discovering how little he valued their alliance if they ever returned home. It made sense, in a sick, twisted way, that he would try to destroy the island's leadership at a time when their Chieftain was gone.

"No joke," Tuffnut said. His Timberjack began walking forward, and Astrid helped Toothless walk alongside it, keeping pace with the exceedingly slow movement. "I helped Gobber and the others round them all up once we knew what was going on, and then Mildew got to interrogate them. Turns out, they had orders to kill as many Elders as possible, and then to just lay low. Like that ever would have worked. Things are really tense between the people who stayed behind and the Windy Isle Vikings who claimed they had nothing to do with it."

"Thunderguts planned to take me and and Toothless," Astrid revealed. "Tried to, anyway. I'm not sure what he meant to do with Stoick, but if he had succeeded, Berk would be crippled and the Windy Isle tribe stronger than ever." She was fairly certain there were flaws in that plan, but Thunderguts hadn't struck her as the careful planning type anyway.

"Where is he now?" Tuffnut asked.

"Dead," Astrid revealed. "So all's well that ends well?"

"Wish they'd got Snotlout instead of Spitelout," Tuffnut admitted. "He's head of the Jorgensons now. He wouldn't shut up about it, either."

"And no more impressive for it," Astrid retorted. She did _not _like that turn of events. Snotlout wouldn't have that much power, and wouldn't get to replace his father as an Elder, but he had definitely moved up in the world, and that was going to go to his head-

"Wait, he stayed behind?" He wasn't here at the nest at all? He had never gotten on the ships?

"Wondered when you'd notice that," Tuffnut said smugly. "You beat him so soundly he missed the ships. Worse, he didn't want to admit that, so everyone thinks he's a huge coward. Being the new head of the Jorgensons isn't even enough prestige for him to break even. It's driving him nuts."

"Great. Slightly more powerful, disrespected, and mad at me for humiliating him." Maybe staying on the nest for a few months wasn't such a bad idea.

"Astrid Hofferson, dreading a fight?" Tuffnut gasped. His Timberjack doubled back its sinuous neck to look at him, and he patted its thin face. "Don't worry, I'm just being stupid."

"It's hard not to dread fighting the same idiot over and over again because he just won't take a hint," Astrid retorted. "Especially when he'll blame me for missing the ships." He wouldn't be right to blame her, of course; any real Viking would have crawled their way aboard no matter how horribly wounded they were, and she hadn't hurt him that badly. He was just lazy and _maybe _as cowardly as he looked.

"I get that," Tuffnut agreed. "Anyway, anything else you want to ask me about things back on Berk before I go avoid the Chief for a while?"

"Just one thing," she replied. "What happened to the teens who tried to kill our Elders and did kill Spitelout?"

"Thrown in jail," Tuffnut reported neutrally. "If they survive the Winter, they can deal with another trial and a verdict from the Chief. It depends on how vindictive Mildew is."

"How do you figure that?" She couldn't see the connection.

"He was put in charge of the prison, since Spitelout is dead," Tuffnut explained. "If he's feeling lazy, he'll let them freeze to death in there. If he's feeling vindictive, he'll bring them blankets and then push for the bloodiest possible execution in the Spring."

"It's Mildew, so I'm betting on the second one," Astrid decided. That, at least, was one less thing to worry about.

* * *

Torches blazed merrily, and bonfires crackled; the mood was jubilant, though tempered by the many injured lying around the shore. Blankets, food, water, and far too much mead had been passed out, and even the Windy Isle Vikings seemed to be having a good time.

Astrid felt out of place simply because it felt like her problems were far from over, unlike virtually everyone else around her. She leaned back against Toothless' side, shrugging her shoulders under the blanket covering her up to her neck, and tried to clear her thoughts.

Thunderguts was dead, and so was the monstrosity, the dragon Fishlegs continued to call the Green Death for lack of a better name. To her, it would always have only one vague and terrifying name. The most life-threatening problems she faced were dealt with.

But unlike everyone else, she had plenty of other concerns. Speedifist, Snotlout, Stoick, her parents. How the village in general would treat Toothless, how life was going to go forward.

She felt like there was some way to play all of those things off on each other, and was already starting to see how it could all work, but there were far too many loose ends and gaps to be filled in, too many holes in the path to a satisfactory future, for her to feel content.

"Got your own bonfire?" her father asked, walking up to the flames and sitting down a healthy distance away from Toothless.

"Somehow," she said lightly, "once we sat down, everyone decided they'd rather be somewhere else. How's mom?"

"Resting easily," Sighvat replied with a smile. "I had to convince her I could handle this on my own, or else she'd be here too."

"We could go over to her," Astrid offered, hoping her father would decline. This talk would be easier with just him, though she had assumed it would involve both of her parents. Sighvat had put it off until now in the hopes that Asa would be awake to participate, after all.

"No, I think we can manage, and she is asleep," he said. "I have the final say, after all."

"Yes, you do." That was one of the things she didn't like, and she wanted to get her feelings out into the open. "And lately, you've been making that very clear."

His face fell, and he looked away, staring into the fire. "So you do resent it."

"Honestly, a little. What happened to not forcing me into anything?" she asked quietly. There had been an unspoken agreement between them in times past; she was honorable and would do as he asked, and he wouldn't order her around. He would listen to her. That had definitely fallen to the wayside in the last few weeks.

"Things started to fall apart," he said simply. "Letting you go your own way was easy when it was mostly the way I would have seen you go regardless. Even once you returned, I let you work with the dragon, I supported you-"

"Right up until it started affecting your life and the family's reputation," Astrid said, feeling a touch bitter. "Then you decided it would be easier to marry me off and use that to run away."

"And you _like _having a reputation worth nothing at all?" he asked, turning back to face her. "It was in our best interests."

"Compared to being married off?" She looked him in the eye. "Maybe. Yes, if it was anyone like Snotlout. I never intended to let that agreement you both forced me into come to pass."

"And now?" he asked. "I found Speedifist's mother today, and she says he's fine."

Astrid let a mirthless smile cross her face. "Did you? Doesn't matter."

Sighvat glanced behind her at Toothless, who was watching them both, his green eyes reflecting the firelight. "Having a dragon doesn't mean you get to do whatever you want."

"In this case, having a dragon means that the Chief isn't going to let me be married off to a _known enemy tribe_," Astrid said calmly. "And I definitely won't complain when he breaks the betrothal contract."

"We are moving anyway," Sighvat said slowly. "He doesn't have to know."

"He already does, Thunderguts gave it away when he tried to kidnap me," Astrid said bluntly. "But if he hadn't, I'd have told Stoick myself. Don't you get it? I don't _want _to marry Speedifist, or any other Windy Isle Viking, or anyone on Berk for that matter. Not right now, maybe not ever. I'm not going to let you decide my future like that, either. Right now it's Stoick, but if not him then I'll find some other way to get out of it."

Sighvat was staring at her now, his eyes narrowed. "I raised you with more respect than that."

"You also raised me thinking that you'd be fair and listen to me," she countered. "So listen, _please."_

He crossed his arms and nodded for her to go on.

"I don't want to leave Berk," she began. "It's home, even when the people don't like me. Our reputation _was _bad, but Toothless and I just helped take down the biggest dragon anyone has ever seen, and the Chief isn't going to shun me or Outcast me for what I am. It'll get better. So there's no reason to leave. And since you don't need to marry me off to recover our reputation, there's no reason to force me into another stupid marriage contract."

"So I just give in to you, let you flaunt my authority, and pretend it's fine?" he asked.

"You listen to your daughter and agree that you weren't in the right," Astrid said. "Is that really so hard?"

Toothless grumbled supportively, lifting his head enough to catch Sighvat's notice before letting it fall back.

"And the dragon?" he asked.

"We'll figure that out later," she offered. She didn't know exactly how Toothless was going to fit into the future of Berk yet, and couldn't plan for something she didn't know about.

"Fine," he decided, looking at the bonfire. "I feel like I don't know you as well as I thought."

"People change," she said, glad he had agreed. She felt she didn't know _him _as well as she had thought either, given how much of a surprise his actions had been these last few weeks, but that was probably because up until now, she had never had cause to do anything he disapproved of.

But that was one more thing taken care of, one more piece of the puzzle. She had used Stoick to neutralize Speedifist, or would soon, and her father had agreed not to make things worse.

_**Author's Note: **_**There's a seeming incongruity here in this chapter, something I think one or two people might notice (you're all far too observant). Let me just reassure you on that count; no, it's not a mistake or an oversight, or even just 'plot convenience'. Feel free to speculate on what that means, but with one chapter and then an epilogue, we're almost out of time for that. Whatever's going to happen, it's going to happen next chapter.**


	31. Lagging Behind

"So soon?" Astrid asked, staring at the bundle of leather and metal Gobber was holding out to her. "I didn't even know you were done setting up your forge."

"Lass," Gobber said condescendingly, passing the saddle over, "ye've really got ta get an education in this stuff if yer gonna be relyin' on my craft. It took me longer to unpack me travelin' smithy than it did ta fix yer rig. Ye coulda done it yerself wit' a fire and some knowledge."

"If you're offering to provide that education, I'll take you up on it," Astrid decided, holding the gear under her arm. "You're right, I do need to know."

"Perfect," Gobber said happily. "Jus' as soon as I've got some free time to teach ya. Next week sound good to start?"

Astrid looked around the makeshift workshop, her eyes landing on a huge pile of broken, scorched weapons. "A week? Sure. I'll be here."

"Good. Now, I think Stoick wanted to talk to ye," Gobber said, pointing at the ships now encased in ice by the shore. Stoick was standing nearby, supervising the removal of seemingly endless amounts of firewood. "Good luck, lass."

Astrid nodded, left his makeshift forge, and proceeded to _not _go to Stoick. She had a friend to outfit first. Toothless was lurking near the base of the collapsed mountain, walking stiffly on three legs as he gingerly explored the rubble.

"Ready to get off the ground?" she asked, announcing her presence to the surprisingly oblivious Night Fury. He whirled, leaped off the sheep-sized scale he had been perched on, and almost stumbled right into her, rumbling loudly.

Astrid wasted no time in outfitting him, aided by his enthusiastic compliance, his tail almost knocking the false tailfin right out of her hands. They were up in the air almost before she knew it, launching from the shore to leave the island far behind, travelling up through the ever-present haze around the nest-

She blinked as the grey around them grew faint and light, and covered the eyeholes of her facemask just before they broke out into the open sunlight. Toothless dipped a bit and she adjusted the tailfin, setting them into a glide.

It was bright above the clouds; she had to wait for her eyes to adjust before she could make anything out aside from pure blue and grey. Toothless was in no hurry, so she had all the time she needed.

"Most Winters, we don't get to see the sun for months," she told him. "Thanks for this."

He snorted, rolled his wings, and snapped them into a twirl that leveled out without any assistance from her.

"And it's great for you too," she corrected, glad she hadn't screamed. She had been forewarned by him tensing his shoulders, but only just before he acted. "If you want to cut loose, I'll try and keep up."

Toothless responded by doing just that.

* * *

Some time later, Toothless brought them down below the haze, and back to the nest. They set down by the ships-

And Stoick was on them almost immediately. "Astrid, I thought I had Gobber tell you I needed to talk to you."

"He didn't tell me it was urgent," she said apologetically, slipping out of the saddle and quickly getting between Stoick and Toothless in her attempt to head him off before he annoyed Toothless. "What do you need?"

"Since Tuffnut is Thor knows where and Fishlegs' Gronckle refuses to move, I need you and your dragon to go back to Berk," Stoick said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

"Respectfully, sir, I wonder why I wasn't your first choice," Astrid said. From what she had gathered, Fishlegs and Tuffnut had spent less than a week with their dragons, whereas she had months of experience.

"You _were_," Stoick said sternly. "Then you didn't show up. But it looks like you're my only option."

"Sorry," Astrid said. "What do you want me to do there?" She hadn't expected to go back so soon, but maybe she should have, given what Tuffnut had told her had happened. Stoick would want to pass on messages, at the very least.

Sure enough, Stoick held out a small roll of parchment. "Inside are notes for Gothi, Mildew, and a few others," he explained. "Hand them out. Also, tell the whole village that we won. Make an announcement from the rooftops or something, make it dramatic."

"I can-"

"Good," Stoick interrupted, not even letting her finish agreeing. "I also need you to do a count of the supplies in the storehouses and bring that summary back to me."

"Got it-"

"And once you're done with that," he continued, totally ignoring her assent, "check your home. Is there anything there that we wouldn't want an enemy to have? Any knowledge on how you do what you do?"

Astrid waited a moment, just to be sure he actually wanted a reply. "No, sir," she said, "I didn't write anything useful down." Though she _had _meant to, she had forgotten to keep it up. The single page of notes on Toothless that she had transcribed would be no use to anyone, and was outdated anyway.

"Good. Then check the Thorstons and Ingermans for the same thing, and when you give Snotlout his letter, glare at him for me," Stoick concluded. "And be back as soon as possible. No dawdling. You've already wasted half the day doing Thor knows what."

"I'll do as you ask, sir," Astrid said confidently. This wasn't ideal, but at least he was relying on her instead of ignoring her and what she, with Toothless, had to offer. If he continued to overload her with things to do, she would push back, but for today it was fine. They could deal with being errand-runners.

* * *

The flight to Berk was long and monotonous; even on a Night Fury, it took most of the remaining daylight gliding above the clouds, occasionally dipping down to be sure they weren't overshooting, and all Astrid had to do was operate the tailfin and think.

Stoick had given her too many things to do in too short a time, and it was already cold in the air in the day. She had accepted that they'd be staying the night by the time they dipped below the clouds and remained there, flying through a light scattering of snow.

She directed Toothless for the village, seeing no point in dismounting. Stoick had ordered an announcement 'from the rooftops' and she planned on delivering.

Toothless, for his part, seemed content to follow along and watch her, and went where she asked, landing on a sturdy storehouse and looking around expectantly. It was, she realised, the first time he had been in the village itself.

They had been seen on their way in, and were clearly visible on the white-dusted roof. A crowd began gathering. For once, she didn't see a single hostile face; everyone present had reason to desperately want to hear what she had to say. They knew how long the trip to the nest took, and knew that the fight had begun several days ago, and was thus probably over. She was obviously the bearer of news.

Astrid waited until Gothi hobbled along, following the crowd, before she made her announcement. Once the frail Elder was present, though, she began speaking immediately. "The nest has fallen!" she yelled triumphantly. "There were casualties, but not many, and our tribes are preparing to weather the Winter, as planned!"

A ragged, subdued cheer rose from the crowd. Between the cold, the recent upheaval here, and the upcoming Winter devoid of most of the tribe's able-bodied, they weren't as enthusiastic as she thought they would be. It made sense, they had other things to worry about, but it was a letdown all the same.

"Chief Stoick sent me to deliver the news," she continued, urging Toothless down to the ground, on a patch of snow-dusted dirt that was otherwise unoccupied, and dismounted, pulling the roll of parchment out and opening it. "And some messages." There were quite a few different parchments, some going to Elders, some to others, such as Snotlout. She tried not to read any of the actual messages; those were private.

Gothi hobbled to the forefront of the crowd and out into the open, her hand outstretched.

"Yes, there's one for you," Astrid confirmed, handing it over. "Mildew too, but I don't know if he's here." She hadn't seen him in the crowd, and suspected he would have raised a fuss over Toothless' presence if he was around to see it, though Toothless was just standing with his back to the storehouse, watching the crowd.

Gothi took that one too, nodding in understanding. That left Astrid with…

She checked the parchments. "Actually, Stoick gave me a lot to do, so if you could take care of all of them?" she asked hopefully.

Gothi cast her an unamused look, but reached out to take the rest of the parchment. Astrid smiled thankfully. Aside from being relieved of the chore itself, now she didn't have to see Snotlout. Being spared the trial of having to interact with him would brighten any day.

As Gothi receded back into the crowd, Astrid turned to look at the storehouse. They _were _already right where they needed to be for that particular task, and it wasn't dark out yet.

Toothless rumbled curiously, not taking his eyes off the crowd.

She reconsidered. "No," she muttered, climbing into the saddle, "not yet." First came taking Toothless to the forest, so that he could go find shelter for the night. She wasn't crazy enough to try bringing him into her hut, and having him sleep in the village was asking for trouble. She could take on the burden of assessing the village's supplies herself.

* * *

Astrid wearily hauled a basket of fish back to the wall, wishing Stoick had asked her to have someone else take stock. The sun had set long ago, and she was only now finishing, her torch illuminating the last of the storehouses as she returned to the parchment she had left by the door and checked off the last batch of baskets. One hundred and ten salted Cod.

"And I don't even know if it's enough," she muttered, folding the parchment and sticking it in her tunic. She began the long trek back to her hut, leaning forward in the cold.

That was the worst part of being made to take inventory; she didn't know enough to tell whether they had more than enough supplies for the Winter, or nowhere close. It all looked the same to her, just piles of food in a wooden building. She didn't know how fast it depleted, or how much not having able-bodied Vikings around would affect things. Fishing wasn't an option in the Winter, not for ships, so her gut feeling was that it didn't really matter if there were fishermen around, but she didn't know for sure.

Stoick would know, though, and through her he had at least an indirect hand in steering the village safely through the Winter. Gothi and the other Elders knew what they were doing. It would be enough; surely he wouldn't have left without ensuring he was not dooming those who remained.

It wasn't her problem, if it was a problem at all. Worst-case scenario, she and Toothless could spend a few days fishing and help out that way. That would be enough.

Her conscience assuaged, she made her way home, crunching the slowly building snow underfoot. It was cold outside, and she was looking forward to getting inside, drying out and warming up, and collapsing in her bed-

Except her bed was occupied, she realized, coming up to her family's hut and seeing light from between the cracks in the wood, though her parents were still at the nest. Helga and her daughter were still there, allowed to stay out of basic decency and trust.

Knowing what she did now, she wondered whether it was smart to let another tribe basically move in for a few months, but that was probably paranoia. A single mother and her young daughter were not going to be doing anything dangerous.

She stopped at the doorstep of her own home, knocking politely before opening the door herself, giving the occupants ample forewarning while not acting like a stranger in her own home.

It didn't seem to matter; Helga barely looked up from her spot at the table, leaning forward and staring into the fire.

"Were you there for the announcement?" Astrid asked, taking her boots off and placing them close to the fire.

"Yes," Helga said shortly.

"It's great," Astrid said, wondering whether Helga was tired. With a young daughter to handle all day, that might be it. She set her helmet next to her boots, and her ax on the mantle above the fireplace where she would be sure not to forget it. No reason to bring it into her room when she wasn't staying; there wasn't anywhere good to put it without moving things around in there, and Vanna was probably asleep on her bed.

"Is Vanna asleep?" she asked, walking over to her room.

"Yes," Helga said again in the same toneless voice.

Astrid turned just shy of the door to her room, unwilling to let the rudeness go unaddressed. "Did I do something to you, or are you just having a bad day?" she asked coldly.

"Bad day," Helga said quietly. "Sorry. So sorry."

Somewhere in the back of her head, Astrid realized that there was more going on. She didn't have a knack for scheming or reading most people, but Helga was being as obvious as was possible without outright giving anything away.

"I'm not going anywhere until you apologize," Astrid said angrily. As she spoke, she widened her eyes, did her best to look concerned, and pointed to Helga.

"It's just a really bad day," Helga said in the same tense, strained voice, but her hands told a different story. She pointed to the front door, then herself, and then to Astrid's room, her eyes wide with fear.

"You'll have to be more clear," Astrid managed, quickly going back to the fireplace and grabbing her ax, leveling it at Helga while pointing at the door to her bedroom.

Helga shook her head wildly, silently begging for her to put the ax down, gesturing wildly. "I can't be more clear, it was just a bad day."

Astrid lowered her ax, trying to think. From what she could tell, someone had come into the hut and was now lurking in her room, waiting for her, but Helga was afraid of what would happen if she went in there with her ax.

Vanna. Whoever was in there had Vanna, and was hostile enough that Helga feared for her daughter.

Astrid pointed at Helga and then moved her hand to about Vanna's height, pointing at the door and then holding her own ax to her throat. "Was Vanna acting up all day, or did somebody make you mad?"

"Vanna," Helga confirmed. "She's not sleeping well, either. I think she might be coming down with something, but I hope not."

Astrid interpreted that as Helga saying that Vanna might get hurt if she went in armed, but she wasn't sure what else she could do. There was only one way in, and no way to surprise the one within. Her room had one door, and was located on the far side of the hut-

The far side of the hut, one wooden wall away from the outside, one roof away from the sky. She had firepower on her side if she had the time to go get help.

For that matter, she could get less distant help, neighbors, villagers. But Vikings didn't _do _stealth; they might give the game away before she could get them into position.

Who did she trust more in a hostage situation with an unknown perpetrator? A random assortment of Berkians who didn't respect her all that much at present, or Toothless?

"This is my home," Astrid said, stalling for time, acutely aware that everything they said could be heard by whoever was in her room. "I'm working day and night for the Chief of this island, and I deserve respect. Are you going to complain if I leave, finish my work for the night, and then come back?"

"So long as you don't bring a bunch of noisy idiots back to party, and so long as you do come back," Helga said shakily. "I don't want you or anyone else waking Vanna, she needs her rest so she doesn't get sick."

So nothing bad would happen if she left for a while? "I might be out late, but I'll definitely be back before the night is over," she said, making sure.

"Come back quickly, I don't want to sit up all night waiting," Helga answered.

"You don't have to wait for me," Astrid said flippantly, nodding in understanding. "It's not as if I have anywhere else to go. And when I come back, you had better have a better attitude." She had to hope that whoever it was didn't know her very well, though they were most likely a Viking, and thus ignorant when it came to subtlety anyway.

She lingered for a moment longer, taking a normal amount of time to redress and gather herself, and then left the hut. The moment the door swung shut behind her she was off, running at full speed through the empty, dark village, heading toward the forest.

It would be a long, cold, dark trip, and she was going to need light to navigate the depths of the island. She veered off her intended route, stopped by the Great Hall, and took one of the long-burning torches that lined the empty hall, pulling it right out of the metal bracket that held it to the wall. Then she was off again.

How long to run to Toothless' cave and back again, even using the paths he had shown her? Too long for her liking, but Helga had seemed to think nothing bad would come of her absence so long as the assailant thought she was coming back of her own accord that night.

But she couldn't rely on that; why wasn't she getting people from the huts all around her?

Simple; she didn't trust them to do what was needed. To understand the need for silence, to trust her assessment of the situation, to act as an understanding partner following her lead instead of just barging in and dealing with things their way, which might get Vanna killed. This was a time for subtlety and trickery, and however inexperienced she was at those things, any other Berkian was worse. Toothless was a Night Fury, a creature of secrecy. It just made sense.

Flurries of snow were blown off of roofs by errant winds as she ran, the indecisive gusts pushing her in different directions with every passing moment, heralding another storm coming soon. The moon's light pushed out from behind the clouds at times, but it never lasted long, and her torch was far more reliable, though it flickered in the strongest winds. She didn't stop until she had passed into the forest, sheltered from the worst of the wind.

Even then, she only stopped entirely for a moment, to catch her breath. Then she was moving again, forging ahead.

The chaotic forests of Berk were worse at night, but she persevered, following the path Toothless had shown her. Thanks to said path she was crossing the island at a decent pace, but to her it felt unbearably slow.

As she moved, shoving aside branches and stepping on snow-dusted stones, she wondered who was in her home. Who would hold a young girl hostage? Who would have a reason to wait in her room for her? And why?

Astrid knew she might be wrong, but she suspected one of two things. Either this was some half-planned scheme put into motion by Thunderguts before he left the island to go to what would be his doom, or it was Snotlout, trying once again to get the better of her in some way.

She wasn't sure which she would rather it be, either. That would imply she knew how to deal with either possibility. By the time she reached Toothless' clearing, she had no more of a plan than what she had started running with.

But at least that beginning of a plan was still on track. "Toothless!" she called out. Moments later, her friend emerged from the cave, looking around warily.

"I need your help," she panted, slipping onto his back and working the tailfin as he took off. She was glad she had left his saddle on; not having to put it on saved precious time, time they might not have.

The air was cold, and her face burned. She flipped the mask down, only to have a strong wind blow right through the eyeholes, making her tear up. She was forced to lean forward, lest the wind continue to blind her. That was going to be a problem.

The forest passed below them at a rapid pace, disappearing in moments, replaced by water-

"The village," Astrid requested, pointing out to the side, back at the island. She adjusted the tailfin as soon as Toothless began to turn, wondering if adjusting the tailfin directly would be more efficient. It might serve to indicate where she wanted Toothless to go, but at the same time, she couldn't help but feel forcing him to turn or fall out of the sky wasn't right.

A problem for later; she didn't even have time to blink the last few tears out of her eyes before Toothless set down on the same storehouse as earlier that day, looking back at her as if to ask what they were doing.

Astrid sat in the saddle for a long moment, trying to decide what to do next. She didn't know what approach would be best; landing on the roof of her hut was out, as the sound of impact would alert whoever was inside.

Now that she thought about it, that ruled out her 'break in through the wall' approach too; there was no way Toothless could break through a sturdy wall fast enough to catch anyone by surprise, not in a hostage situation. She would have to be inside the room, distracting them, and at that point she could handle it anyway.

But she could still use him. He was small enough to fit indoors, dangerous and quick enough to ambush someone. It was a crazy, stupid plan, but she needed _some _unexpected attack angle, and a Night Fury lurking in the hut, ready to pounce, would be exactly that.

It wasn't a good plan, but it was better than anything she could imagine the Vikings of Berk doing, and one that could be adapted on the fly, though she hated improvising.

"Down there, we're walking," she whispered, lowering her voice more to convey the need for stealth than out of any real fear they would be heard. Toothless obligingly dropped down, not making a sound, landing in one of the soft snow piles slowly growing around the storehouse.

Astrid dismounted and led him through the village, frequently looking back to be sure he was still with her. They made it to her home without incident; nobody was around to cause trouble, and Toothless was focused on her, not on exploring the village. It was almost like he had been there before-

She dismissed that errant thought and focused on the task at hand, leading Toothless around the hut. They stopped briefly by the wall she knew separated her and the hostage situation…

"Remember this spot," she whispered, running her hand along the wall in the right spot. "You might need to break through here." Now that she looked, the wood was weathered and relatively weak. He _could _probably smash right through it if needed, but until she knew more, that was dangerous. Showing him this was just a way of keeping her options open.

"Remember," she repeated, eliciting a quiet huff. That possibility prepared for, she put it out of her mind and led him to the front of the hut. She slammed the door open, announcing her presence with one hand on her ax handle and the other behind her, on Toothless' snout. "I'm back," she called out.

"Quiet, Vanna is still asleep," Helga responded, still sitting at the table, her head in her hands. Astrid pitied her; she had nothing to do but sit there and fear for her daughter. Whoever held Vanna hostage had probably promised to kill her if Helga moved. It was what Astrid would have done, common sense. One didn't threaten a Viking's child and then leave her free to move about and do what she wished. That was a good way to have one's head mashed to a pulp.

"I'll make as much noise as I want," Astrid retorted, stepping inside and revealing Toothless behind her.

"You might hurt yourself, knocking things about," Helga warned.

Astrid let her ax clatter to the floor near the table, both to make a loud noise and to leave it somewhere either she or Helga could reach it, and Toothless squeezed his way into the hut. He fit, so long as he kept his wings close and didn't bat anything with his tail. Their hut had an open floorplan anyway; it wasn't like there was much for him to knock over.

He _did _look extremely out of place, standing in her home, but she ignored the absurdity. Absurdness was what she needed, something no Viking would expect. The general plan that was coming together was simple; go into her room, draw the enemy out, and let Toothless bite them in half, whoever they were.

"You'll wake her," Helga complained, staring fearfully at Toothless.

"You keep complaining about that," Astrid shot back, speaking loudly. With her hands, she told Toothless to be ready for a fight, but to be wary of friendlies, the latter a command they had learned together and then never had cause to use. He snorted quietly and hunched down in the middle of the room. The moment anyone stepped out of her bedroom and turned they would see him, but in the confines of the hut, it would already be too late.

"I don't want her getting sick," Helga retorted.

"Well, I'm going into my room, and I'll send her out to you if you're so worried," Astrid said decisively, squaring her shoulders. She was ready; her backup was in place, her ax was close by, though if it weren't for Helga's warning she would go in with it.

The door was slightly ajar; she pushed it open and walked in, ready for anything-

And jerked back right on cue, feigning surprise and reaching for her belt, finding nothing even as she took stock of the situation.

Snotlout, sitting on the edge of her bed, holding a sword that was resting on Vanna, who lay perfectly still, tears gliding down her face. She couldn't move without cutting herself, and if Snotlout wanted he could just push down and kill her. His other hand held another, thinner and shorter sword, one that was rougher and unpolished, of unfamiliar make.

"Finally here?" he asked in a low voice. "Move, and the girl gets it."

"What-" Astrid began, cutting herself off. "Why?" she finished instead. She didn't need to know the details of how he had managed this; she already knew more than he thought. She needed to get Vanna out of danger, and then to deal with him.

"Knew you'd come back here, knew there was a little girl in the hut, put two and two together," he said shortly. "I'm taking what's mine, and you're not going to get out of it this time."

"Seriously?" she asked, clenching her fist. "You want to try? Let the girl go, I'll fight you hand to hand, one on one, anywhere you choose." Which would, of course, involve him stepping out into the main room of the hut and being mauled. If Snotlout thought she would be honorable, he would be quickly disabused.

"I'd beat you into the ground," he blustered.

"Prove it," she challenged.

"No." he leveled his free sword at her. "You ruined me. Humiliated me, let a dragon attack me, got away with it, ignored me… Hurt me when I was unconscious." The rage in his eyes was not faked, and Astrid noticed an assortment of fading bruises around his face and head, hard to see in the flickering torchlight but definitely there now that she was looking for them. Bruises she had not put there. His nose was her doing, and the marks on his neck, but the rest were a mystery to her.

"You made me miss the ships, dishonored me in front of the whole village! I'm going to make you pay." He spat at her, and she leaned to the side, ignoring the insult in favor of the far more pressing matter at hand.

"Me, not the girl," she objected.

"She's leverage," Snotlout said, standing. He leered at her. "I'll kill you, enjoy you, and then _maybe _I'll let the girl go." His free sword waved threateningly in Astrid's direction. He was two, maybe three steps away from being able to impale her. "_If_ you cooperate and let me kill you."

She gagged a little before she could stop herself; the very idea that he might kill her and _then _do what he wanted with her body was horrible, beyond belief and thus beyond her anticipating. She had assumed he wanted her alive.

What could she do? Snotlout took a step forward, cutting the distance in half. His sword was long enough that she couldn't just reach forward and take it from him without him striking her, and the room was too narrow to allow her to maneuver. Any attack from her would provoke him, and he would kill Vanna in retaliation.

"This is ridiculous," she said, stalling for time, thinking frantically. _She _couldn't get around Snotlout, Toothless certainly couldn't, not in this tiny room.

Snotlout didn't continue advancing; he stopped there, glaring at her. "It's not!" he objected angrily. "You're stupid! Always thinking you know better. I'm going to-"

"Kill me, leave a witness, and set yourself up for a bloody execution," Astrid interrupted. She didn't need the vile details, and Vanna _certainly _didn't need any more trauma. The girl was frozen in place, breathing shallowly, utterly terrified, and had been a captive under threat of death for hours on end.

"I'll kill her too," Snotlout growled. "And it doesn't matter, I'm going to be Chief! Head of the Jorgensons, Chief of Berk… Thunderguts won't care about a dead woman."

"Sure, because you murdering his people won't start a war," Astrid shot back, still thinking. He wasn't advancing while he was talking, which was a small mercy. There was nothing she could do, but Toothless had other capabilities, that was why she had brought him along. He was no help out in the main room; Snotlout was going to kill her before he went out there, and he would kill Vanna if she left.

"He owes me," Snotlout retorted. "We made a deal, I'd help him undermine Stoick, set myself up as head of my family, and he'd cover up whatever I did and help make my Chiefdom official."

Astrid would have recoiled if she weren't so focused on not moving; once again, Snotlout had just surpassed her worst expectations. Not only was he a vile creep, he was a traitor to the tribe, too. There wasn't even the slightest hint of remorse in his voice, and why would there be? As far as he knew, he was well on a path that led to everything he wanted.

Much though she didn't want to, she understood Snotlout's reasoning. He was just stupid and greedy enough to believe Thunderguts would hold his end of the deal, and not perceptive enough to realize that Thunderguts could easily just pretend it never happened and laugh at the boy who killed his own father and helped destabilize the island for nothing but empty words.

He also didn't know Thunderguts was dead, but Astrid wasn't about to tell him. If he believed, he might do something rash and he was _already _a heartbeat from killing her or Vanna.

But she needed a way to keep him talking, so she struck at his stupidity in a different way. "What of my parents? Helga's friends? There are other people in these tribes besides you and Thunderguts. They'll figure out that you were involved when you completely ignore the whole issue."

"I'll pin it on _you_," he sneered. "You and your stupid dragon. You flew back here, killed them, and then the dragon killed you. I'll leave your body for it when I'm done having my fun, and it'll probably eat you. That will solve everything."

Toothless. Astrid glanced at the wall behind Snotlout, the one she had shown him. If he couldn't come through the doorway and get by Snotlout, maybe he could break through from the other side. The bed, and by extension Vanna, weren't directly in front of the vulnerable wall; Toothless might break through between them and Snotlout, and the distraction would give her a chance to act.

It was risky, it might not work, but at this point she'd take it over doing nothing, running out of ways to keep Snotlout talking, and dying at swordpoint. But she needed Toothless to do his part, and to do that she needed to signal him.

She had stepped into the room; the door was just out of reach behind her. She glared at Snotlout. "And you'll kill a little girl? For this?"

Snotlout glared back, and she inched backward, shuffling her boots and shaking her head to mask the movement. She only needed to move a little bit, to reach the door and stick her hand out into sight; Toothless would see her.

"I don't care- Stop moving!" Snotlout exclaimed, pulling at the sword he held on Vanna. The girl cried out in pain as the tip of the blade was drawn across her shoulder and arm, ripping her tunic and drawing blood.

"Don't move!" Snotlout repeated, repositioning himself in the middle of the room, the tip of one blade under Vanna's gasping throat, and the other a hand's width away from Astrid's chest. "You too, lady!" he yelled again, addressing Helga, who presumably still sat in the other room, unable to do anything. "The girl still lives!"

"Look at what you've become," Astrid said scornfully, her hand moving behind her back; she'd gotten the door open a little while Snotlout repositioned and looked back at Vanna, and he hadn't noticed. Toothless might be able to see her if he had moved from where she had left him, if he was looking.

He had to see, to understand, to fill in the gaps between barebones signals and a full-fledged plan, and he had to act fast. She prayed to any god that was listening as her hand contorted, repeating the four requests that made up her plan. Flank, break, attack and defend. One of the commands they almost never used except in hunting, one she had _never _before needed to employ, and two of the most basic.

"I know you're stalling," Snotlout said to her, leaning forward and poking her chest armor, digging the tip of his sword into the dark leather. She didn't betray her fear; he'd have to step just a little closer to actually do any damage to her. As it was, he was barely making a mark in the armor. "No more."

"No more hoping for you to come to your senses?" she asked acidly, hoping to bait him back into arguing. "Maybe if you were less like _this, _you wouldn't need to take what you wanted."

"I'm done caring about what you think," he retorted, stepping forward again. His sword wasn't on Vanna anymore, but Astrid harbored no doubts that he could kill her in an instant, were she to move. She stood entirely still as he poked at her armor with his other sword, his eyes dark and foreboding.

"Take it off," he rasped. "And stand there as I slit your throat, or she dies."

"Take what off?" she asked, playing dumb. Both hands were up in front of her, paltry defenses against a blade, but defenses nonetheless. If Toothless hadn't seen, she was out of options. She could only play for time and hope.

"The armor, everything," he clarified. "Now. Slowly."

So that he could be sure she wasn't trying anything, or for his own twisted enjoyment? Probably both. She reached up and unstrapped a shoulder pad, wishing she had thought to replace the shell that used to lie beneath. A hidden weapon would be great right about now-

The wooden wall behind Snotlout _buckled_ under two near-simultaneous impacts, strong but thin planks snapping like dry twigs, the entire thing bending inward and smashing open, extruding into the room, neatly separating Vanna and Snotlout by dividing the room.

Astrid saw a black body behind the buckling wood, the hole rapidly widening as Toothless forced his way in, ramming forward and clawing at the rapidly dwindling barrier between him and the inside of the hut. She sprang to the side, throwing herself against the interior wall and shoving Snotlout toward the destruction. Snotlout stumbled, caught by surprise, one sword knocked to the floor by the impact and the other pointing nowhere in particular.

She pressed the assault even as Vanna and Snotlout both began screaming, likely for very different reasons, shoving Snotlout right at Toothless, who bit down on his flailing sword arm with almost mocking ease, sinking his teeth into Snotlout's clenched hand and probably the sword handle in the middle.

Snotlout momentarily dealt with, Astrid vaulted over some of the wreckage, quickly spotting Vanna, who was curled up on the displaced bed, huddling as far from the destruction as she could get, bleeding from her shoulder and arm, but nowhere else.

Toothless moved behind Astrid, dragging Snotlout bodily through the doorway, into the main room of the hut, and Astrid approached Vanna. She held her arms out in invitation-

Vanna threw herself at Astrid, grabbing on to her waist and burying her face in the leather armor, bawling loudly.

Astrid stood there for a moment, patting the little girl's back and feeling an almost overwhelming rush of relief, letting it roll through her. Such a dangerous call, having Toothless strike in a nearly unguided way. It could easily have ended with Vanna dead by his paws had he struck the wall in the wrong place, had he forgotten where, exactly, she had shown him earlier. But it had worked.

Vanna continued to sob. A cold wind rushed in through the massive opening in the wall, and she shivered, still clinging to Astrid.

Toothless stuck his head through the doorway and warbled at Astrid, flicking his ears back toward the main room of the hut. He seemed annoyed.

"We're coming," Astrid assured him. She bent down, pulled the little girl more securely into her arms, and began picking her way out of the room, stepping over the many shattered fragments of wall that now littered the floor. It was slow going with both arms occupied, but she was through the doorway quickly enough.

Helga met her there, rushing to pull her daughter away. Astrid barely noticed the blood spattered on Helga's face-

But close up, in the moment it took to transfer the girl, she _did _see it. She turned, taking in the rest of the room.

Toothless stood in the corner, watching them carefully. He growled at Helga, pawing at the body lying between him and everyone else.

Astrid's own ax was lodged in Snotlout's chest, buried so deep that the blade might be stuck in the floor below his body. Blood pooled around him, and his eyes were dull and empty, his face a rictus of pain and fear.

It took her a few moments to put it all together, to picture what had happened, her mind addled by the retreating high of relief and adrenaline. Toothless had dragged Snotlout out, injured and disarmed but alive, and Helga had buried Astrid's ax in him without so much as a moment's pause.

"You just made things a lot worse for us," Astrid said angrily. She didn't want to be mad at Helga, and she didn't really care about Snotlout; he was long overdue for a grisly end, the way he acted. But this was going to have consequences, and the alternative, letting him live to face justice, would have been far easier for everyone involved.

"It was worth it," Helga said gruffly. Her daughter's bawling was quickly quieting down, transitioning to a near-silent whimpering with every passing moment.

"Maybe for you." Astrid was already anticipating the fallout from this. Snotlout's family would accuse her of killing him and coming up with a story, and people might believe them. Helga and Vanna weren't reliable enough as witnesses to counter that, not when her own reputation wasn't good. Her own ax was the killing weapon, and there weren't any other axes in the hut to replace it with.

"There's an easy solution," Helga countered, softening her voice. "Just go to Thunderguts and explain, he'll give you and your family a place in our tribe. You can get away from all of this, and maybe if you're already living there your parents won't have a reason to hold you to the betrothal."

"Sure, that would work," Astrid muttered bitterly. If Thunderguts weren't such a ruthless idiot willing to back Snotlout and thus endorse this, not to mention trying to kidnap her, maybe.

"It would," Helga persisted. "Our tribe would accept you, Thunderguts wants something like you anyway, your own tribe doesn't respect you… There's no reason to stay."

"No reason except that this is home, and I don't want to leave." If her people drove her off, if they told her to go, maybe, but when they just didn't respect her? She didn't believe things would always be that way, not to the extent it was now. Things would change; Stoick was going to have to validate her in some way so that she could lead the other riders. Simply not being the only one would help soften the village's disdain for her, and leaving before all of that even had a chance to happen was stupid.

And all of that aside… Astrid had seen enough of Thunderguts' way of thinking to recognize this for what it was. "He put you up to this, didn't he?" she asked quietly, aware that Vanna was still clinging to her legs. Whatever happened, she wasn't going to traumatize the little girl.

Helga crossed her arms. "You'd be better in our tribe, happier, respected. What's so hard to understand about that?"

"Thunderguts is dead, you know," Astrid continued, "and I know what you're doing. You can stop."

Helga deflated at that, looking worried. "Dead? Are you sure?"

"He tried to kidnap me before the smoke even cleared," Astrid said bitterly. "He got what was coming to him."

"I…" Helga sat down at the table, staring at nothing in particular, rubbing her daughter's back. "I didn't want to come on this trip, but he insisted. He makes sure Vanna and I are provided for, so I couldn't argue. Now what will we do?"

Astrid didn't like the despair in Helga's voice; it was already hard to hate her for killing Snotlout, and this was draining away any anger she was still holding onto. "You relied on him?" she asked.

"Since my husband died, yes," Helga confirmed. "He ensured we always got what we needed, kept us close out of respect, didn't ask for much in return… Some of his advisors resented us. Now one of them will take over."

Toothless warbled softly, abandoning Snotlout's body to walk over. Helga shied away, standing and backing up, putting the table between them.

"He's not going to hurt you," Astrid assured them. "Toothless, don't come any closer." She didn't want to scare them any more, and Toothless' mouth was still dripping blood from where he had bitten. He didn't _look_ safe.

Toothless grumbled and sat on his tail, towering above them but clearly not intending to go anywhere, looking down at them all.

"I don't know…" Helga shook her head. "I'm not sorry for killing him, but I am sorry for making your life harder. Now there is not even a place to convince you to flee to, since you must hate my tribe."

"Did you spy for him?" Astrid asked. It wasn't relevant, wasn't important, but she felt she needed to get a sense of what had really happened all this time. How deep Thunderguts' treachery went.

"Little things, once he knew what you were," Helga confirmed. "He told me to find out how you did what you do, but nothing you had in your room helped, and you said you didn't know. Then he told me to convince you that our island would be better than this one. That was all."

"If he had stuck to just luring me with a better future, he might have succeeded," Astrid admitted. "But he did things like that, and like this."

"This?" Helga whispered.

"Snotlout thought Thunderguts was backing him up, helping him take power," Astrid said shortly. "Maybe he was, or maybe he was just using Snotlout, but the end result is the same." She wasn't sure if Thunderguts _had _a desired outcome when it came to Snotlout; he benefited either way.

"Then he deserved to die," Helga said sternly.

Vanna whimpered loudly, and Helga sighed, holding her daughter tighter. "I shouldn't be talking about this," Helga admitted, "but I feel like we are still in danger until this is resolved."

Astrid nodded. She understood that; comforting Vanna was important, but it had to wait until Helga knew what was coming next. "I'll make this quick."

"What is this?" Helga asked. "What next?"

"A bargain," Astrid said, improvising. They each had a problem they could not easily solve on their own, hers imminent and Helga's distant, as nobody would be going back to the Windy Isle until the ice thawed. "You take responsibility for this. Tell everyone that Snotlout barged in, took Vanna hostage. Then tell them you waited until he let his guard down and then jumped in, fighting him off. I was never here."

"But you were," Helga objected. "And that crashing noise… People will have heard."

"… Right…" Astrid said, realizing that massive structural damage would need to play into the story. "Forget that story. But when they ask, and they will ask, I didn't do anything, say anything to Snotlout, any of that. Neither did Toothless. We just trashed my room as a distraction so you could get at him." The only way to prevent Snotlout's family from blaming her was for someone else to take all the credit for actually killing him. If it weren't for the undeniable damage to the hut, she'd have Helga deny their presence entirely.

"I would have to say that I fought him off, mangled his hand, and killed him," Helga said slowly. "They might blame me for his death."

"This is Berk. I don't know how they do it where you come from, but attacking a child is a no-no," Astrid said firmly. "And he's not in good standing right now. It'll work. In return, I promise I'll help you with your problem, and never tell anyone you were spying for your Chief."

"How can you fix the fact that I have no one to provide for me and my daughter?" Helga asked. "I am not remarrying, and even if I took up a trade it would not be enough."

"There are ways," Astrid promised. It wasn't even that hard of a problem; here on Berk, it would not even be an issue, as essentials were free to all who needed them. She was confident she could figure out a way to help.

"Your word… But you break your word," Helga objected.

"I break my word when I need to," Astrid retorted. "You'll have to trust that I want to help. I'm not a bad person and you need help, so I have no reason to go back on it."

"Deal, then," Helga agreed. "You and your dragon did nothing but distract, and in exchange you provide for us, somehow."

"Deal," Astrid agreed. She would offer to shake hands, but Helga had both arms full holding Vanna. Their word would have to suffice.

* * *

Astrid sat atop a sea stack, watching the village. From this distance, the people of Berk looked like ants, and the village an odd anthill. She was fairly sure she had made that observation before, but it was doubly true now. Berk was stirring like an anthill that had been kicked over.

Some of that was the general uproar over Snotlout's death and the circumstances around it; she had been down in the thick of it all night, repeating her story and wishing everyone would go away, dealing with Snotlout's screaming mother, and the million other things that came with a hostage situation ending with a murder in the middle of the night.

Toothless grumbled beside her as a gust of wind swept over them. He had flamed the sea stack immediately after landing, but stone only held warmth for so long. It was freezing out, and the ocean was solid as far as the eye could see, a mass of ice that would let no vessel pass.

"We're heading back to the nest soon," Astrid assured him. Though, now that she thought about it, that wasn't much of a promise. It would be cold there too, and there would not be much shelter. "And _you _got to hide out on the roof all night. I'm the one who should be complaining, if anybody is. I had to deal with everybody."

Toothless snorted derisively.

"Hey, be happy," she countered, trying a different approach. "You got to rough Snotlout up again, and nobody's blaming us for it this time." To be fair, they hadn't killed him, either. Helga was probably facing some tough questions, but she deserved as much.

Toothless rumbled in agreement.

"I just hope Vanna is okay," Astrid continued softly. The girl's physical wound wasn't serious, but trauma like that had a nasty habit of sticking around for a long, long while, and Gothi didn't do much to deal with that sort of thing.

Another agreeable rumble. Toothless pawed at her back a moment later, urging her up.

"Yeah, yeah, time to go." They had done all they were sent to do, and Stoick would be waiting for them. They'd be back soon enough.

_**Author's Note: **_**Wow, the first bit of this chapter was a slog, and I only had a vague outline for all of it, but the second I got Astrid into the hut and started improvising, the following encounter just wrote itself, and managed to tie into both past and future concepts all on its own. **

**Also, next week's epilogue is the last entry in this story! It's needed, too; there are a lot of loose ends to tie up, things that can't be resolved without a little bit of time passing.**


	32. Epilogue: Their Place

Dawn came as it did every day at the nest, pale light filtering through the clouds, accompanied by freezing cold wind. Astrid was just glad she had a heated blanket. She pushed Toothless's wing off of her, knowing that doing so would wake him, and crawled out of their shared tent, emerging from warm, still darkness into frigid wind, flakes of ice that barely counted as snow stinging her face.

She was sore everywhere, but sleeping in her armor was good for warmth, and better than sleeping directly on the sharp, jagged shore. Soreness was the lesser of the two available discomforts.

Her tent was easy to take down; she had to do so often enough. It had been erected around Toothless the night before, and now came down to reveal him, stretching like a cat. The end of the thick fabric caught his nose as she whisked the tent off of its structural poles, and he sneezed.

All routine, near enough. The world was bitterly cold, and they had a full day of work to get to. But that was life, at least for the time being, and tonight they would have much better accommodations, so roughing it wasn't so bad.

She finished rolling the tent up around its posts and headed out into the makeshift village. Toothless walked off in another direction, going somewhere out of the way to relieve himself.

In the direction Astrid was going, tents had gone up everywhere, and cookfires roared, fueled by driftwood. Fish were speared over said fires, breakfast on the way. Near the shore, a long line of water-making devices lay unused, left to the elements. They had just finished their second well, and those contraptions would soon be repurposed. It felt a little odd that there was apparently fresh water under the ground here, of all places, but there definitely was, which was convenient.

Astrid tossed her disassembled tent into another, similarly-sized tent, one designated for storage. She could get it the day after tomorrow, when they needed it again. Nobody would take it; everyone knew what was stored in this tent. Judging from the fact that hers was the fourth such tent bundle stored here, she was late, if not by a lot. No matter; they knew she and Toothless were more than capable of catching up.

She kept walking, passing cooking fires and people. It was so cold here, at least as cold as Berk, but nobody cared about that. They were all used to the Winter. Roughing it for the entire season was new, but they adapted and endured.

She passed several fires before reaching that of a Berkian. Said Berkian tossed her a freshly-cooked fish without saying anything. He knew the routine too.

She could, hypothetically, have gotten one from a closer fire. But those were all Windy Isle Vikings at the previous fires, and they were, if not hostile, then not quite as content with their lot. She did not want to take food from them, even if she and the others were the ones supplying all the fish.

She made her way to the shore, knowing Toothless would meet her there, and ate as she walked. The tent village was large and still showed signs of the battle that had been fought nearby, mostly in the form of massive greenish-grey scale shards serving various purposes everywhere she looked. Tables, makeshift walls for blocking the wind, and even one particularly odd-looking structure, a small hut complete with scale roof and walls. The Viking who had made that was quite smug about his creation. Nobody begrudged him his own ingenuity, though some definitely envied him his solid walls when the wind blew.

Along with scales, there were dragons around, wandering the camp. Not all of the dragons that fled the nest were here, or even most of them, but some had returned, and they were non-hostile as long as nobody attacked them, though it had taken weeks to make the Viking side of things as non-hostile.

Astrid sidestepped a portly Gronckle and made her way down to the shore, where Stoick was waiting, along with Toothless, who was shifting his weight from one paw to the other, unable to sit still in the cold. He had all four paws to work with now, his hurt leg having healed just fine. He stared challengingly at Stoick.

The two of them really shouldn't be left alone for long. She quickened her pace, knowing that Toothless did not particularly like Stoick, and also knowing that the feeling was mutual. Interactions between the two of them over the course of the last few months had not helped Toothless's dislike of Stoick at all, though he did nothing but glare. That annoyed the Chief, which was never a good thing to do.

Astrid stepped between them, deftly tossing Toothless the remains of her cooked fish, which he snatched and swallowed, his glare disappearing. "What's today's load, Chief?"

"Nothing left to go out, but I want you to bring back updates from the Elders on the state of fish and medical supplies on Berk," he explained. "And as many fish as you can bring up."

Astrid nodded, glad they did not have to carry anything back. With nothing to slow them down, she and Toothless could be home well before dark. "On it. See you tomorrow night, Chief." She turned and got onto Toothless, pulling her helmet off of her belt and putting it on, flipping the facemask down. That was simply for self-preservation; the wind could cut and freeze at any speed this deep into the winter. Gobber had needed to modify her facemask to stop the wind from coming into the eye slits and freezing her eyes right out of her head, it was so bad.

But she enjoyed flying all the more for the danger and difficulty, even if both she and Toothless would be exhausted and chilled to the bone by the time they got home.

Toothless did a sudden spin to the side as they set out, twirling them into a short dive, and barely avoiding skimming the deck of one of the many ships locked in ice. She kept up effortlessly, laughing loudly as they slalomed through the man-made maze of masts, flying parallel to the beach to jockey through and past all of the ships.

"You know," she remarked, "we won't be able to do that in a few more months." Berk's docks were far too claustrophobic, situated right next to sheer cliff walls, to do this, and these ships would be departing once the sea thawed.

They flew out, moving through the sea stack maze. Toothless was enjoying his lack of a burden to carry by cutting loose, and Astrid had no objections. She had more than enough experience to keep up with him now, after months of flying for hours on end almost every day.

Then they were out of the maze, and over the open ocean. There was no fog barrier now. She still didn't know what had caused that, or why it was no longer in effect, but she suspected that once the skies cleared of these ever-present clouds, the nest would see the sun for the first time in centuries.

Toothless soared over the massive sheet of ice, gliding towards what looked like a river in the white, another phenomenon Astrid did not understand. How could some of the sea not freeze like that? It was convenient, even vital to keeping her people alive this Winter, but she did not fully trust that which she did not understand.

But it remained, throughout the cold months. Something no Viking had ever seen before because the ice was too treacherous, no matter how cold it was, to be walked on for any great distance. A river in the ocean, a current of water that wound through the ice, somehow unfrozen.

Toothless flew low over the strange river, looking into it hungrily. Astrid knew that face, even if she could not see it at the moment. Then he fired, and dropped down to grab the large cod he had killed. A light meal, but enough until they made it home. He ate it in the air, a messy feat, and they continued on their way.

A while later, Toothless corrected his path slightly, aiming at three dots in the air in front of them. He looked back at Astrid and warbled.

"Well..." she looked at the distant dragons and weighed their odds. "Sure. Your turn to pick a way." She had picked last time.

Toothless churred in amusement and immediately angled them up. It seemed he was going to be taking the 'drop from above' tactic. A good choice, given last time she had chosen for them to sneak up on the other riders by means of gliding behind and under them, which had taken quite a while. This would be quick, at least.

Higher and higher, up to but not quite breaking through the clouds. Astrid did not mind that. The sunlight above the clouds was not worth how truly cold and wet they would be by the time they made it through the clouds, not to mention going back down and being even colder the rest of the way home. She was used to not seeing the sun in the Winter; she could cope just fine without it.

Toothless flew quickly, powering forward, skimming the bottom of the clouds. In minutes, they were over the other riders. Then, his target acquired, Toothless dove, not roaring, content to let the shriek of the wind across his wings speak for itself.

The other riders scattered as soon as they heard that, and Toothless plummeted right through where they had been, pulling up at the last moment. The wind was a cold, painful hand pressing against Astrid's body at this point, though she had laid prone across the saddle, the breakneck speed they were flying almost enough to rip her up and off. It was a good thing she still had and used her tethers.

Then Toothless slowed, unable to take the cold any longer, and used the rest of his momentum to arc back up, falling into place where the other riders had been.

Said other riders regrouped around Toothless, laughing or in Fishlegs' case hyperventilating. Their three dragons were all unburdened.

"We didn't make you drop anything, did we?" Astrid called out, making sure. It had not happened yet, but she did not want to destroy their perfect record over a small joke.

"No, the Chief didn't have anything for us to take," Ruffnut called across, directing her Nadder closer. "And that's never going to get old."

Astrid smiled at that. Though she had been introduced to it later than the others, Ruffnut loved the thrill of riding and her striking blue Deadly Nadder liberated from the arena, who she had affectionately named Spears in reference to the spines it could throw. Truthfully, the Nadder reminded Astrid of who she had been before all of this. Strong, dangerous, and single-mindedly determined. If things were different, she could see that past version of herself riding it.

But things were not different, and she would never give up Toothless for anything.

"Agreed," Tuffnut yelled from Astrid's other side, his Timberjack keeping its distance. He had named her Blades, in reference to the wings, and possibly also in reference to the name of his sister's dragon. Blades was a she, for all of the other riders' dragons had turned out to be female, in an odd coincidence. Toothless was the only male dragon that currently had a human rider.

Ruffnut shrugged, not responding to her brother. Their relationship seemed to have been patched, but imperfectly. They were no longer inseparable, and often went their own ways. Astrid couldn't be sure, but she suspected both of them liked it better that way now, though Ruffnut still had not truly forgiven her brother for how he had accomplished it. There was a distance still, one that did not feel entirely right.

But for now, all was well enough. They worked together without issue when needed.

"Astrid," Fishlegs puffed, finally regaining his composure. "If you make Meatlug faint in midair, I'll have Gobber sabotage your next tailfin replacement!"

Astrid immediately twisted in the saddle and flipped her facemask up, glaring at Fishlegs. He had gotten a little more assertive, probably because he still had to work with Gobber whenever he could and thus needed to be a little less timid to survive his own job, but that was not a threat she would tolerate. "First, your dragon is more likely to fall asleep midair than faint. Second, do that and I'll break your arm. Third, I know how to fix my own gear now, thank you very much!" That last one was very much a new skill still being learned. She could not afford to be unable to diagnose, repair, or even replace any part of her riding gear, even if she felt like Gobber's second apprentice some days, and did not enjoy working in the forge at all. It was a skill she _had_ to have.

"I was kidding!" Fishlegs yelled back, sounding worried she would follow through on that threat, though it was a little hard to tell his tone for sure. His face was covered in scarves and a ridiculous pair of glass-lensed goggles he had for some reason bought from a trader a few years back. Under all of that, his voice was pretty muffled. At least Tuffnut and Ruffnut had less crazy protective measures, though their hand-carved wooden masks were disturbing on several levels.

Astrid was once again thankful for her custom-made flightsuit. At least she didn't look like a deranged madwoman when riding in the Winter. She turned around, flipping her facemask down once more, and faced the horizon. They had a boring, straightforward flight in front of them, and little to nothing to talk about that had not been discussed before. This trip was one she and Toothless knew by heart. Ferrying messages, supplies, and most importantly food, from Berk to the nest and vice versa, was their current job. Ruffnut was still technically a dedicated warrior, and Astrid thought of herself as a dedicated rider, because that was basically all she did as work. She had no time for another job, especially now that she was learning the essentials of repairing her gear from Gobber. Given Gobber and Bjorn the Tanner gave her whatever she needed for free, she had some of the benefits a dedicated warrior got, too. It was not official, but as long as nothing about her situation changed, she did not need it to be. She had what she needed and a job of her own choosing, even if she was not paid for it.

Really, she did not feel the need to be paid for this. Jobs were supposed to be things one did because they had to be done. She would never consider flying a chore like that. It was a privilege.

* * *

The sky did not change as the riders made their way to Berk, though presumably somewhere above the clouds the sun was rising to its height and beginning to fall once more. It was hard to judge time out here with no sun. That made the flight seem at once both short and unbearably long. Cold set into Astrid's bones despite her amazingly insulated flightsuit, and she knew Toothless was feeling the same. This was the downside of their trips to the nest and back. After a while, the weather could not be kept out no matter how one tried. Even a dragon with internal heating felt it sooner or later.

But eventually Berk appeared on the horizon, a white and grey blob amid the frozen sea, a sight for sore eyes. She never got over how peaceful Berk looked in the Winter, at least nowadays. The snow was fresh and mostly unspoiled, and few people were out and about. It was too cold to be doing much outside unless one was young enough to play in the snow, or responsible enough to continue one's duties regardless of weather.

The other riders peeled off, one by one. Fishlegs flew straight to his house, while Ruffnut went to the Great Hall, and Tuffnut to the edge of the woods.

Meatlug, the Gronckle, lived in Fishlegs' house. Apparently, his mother was okay with that because the Gronckle was like a warm coal heating the whole house for free when inside.

Spears, the Nadder, followed Ruffnut most places and roosted on top of the Thorston house, even in this cold. She was likely going to follow Ruffnut into the Great Hall, as it was one of the few buildings she fit in, as tall as she was.

Blades, the Timberjack, lived in the woods. Tuffnut had fashioned a special whistle to call her from anywhere on the island so that he did not have to spend hours every day searching for his reclusive dragon. Blades was always happy to come when called. For a dragon said to live alone in the wild, she loved company of any kind.

And Toothless? Astrid directed him to her home, and they landed outside. He did not live in the woods. It was just too cold for him there now. He also did not roost on the top of their hut.

She dismounted and followed Toothless around to the side of their hut. Where once there had been a wide alleyway there was now just more hut. They had renovated, for obvious reasons. Toothless _had _smashed a huge hole in the side of the hut.

Toothless stepped on a loose plank of wood, dropping his weight on it. The large door it was connected to unlatched and swung open. That was Gobber's design. He had been both amused and intrigued by the problem of a door a smart dragon could open with ease.

Toothless went inside, and Astrid followed. Toothless closed the door behind her with a tug of his tail, and turned to her.

She smiled and got to work. The saddle and tailfin were soon hanging on the wall and lying in a solid, waterproof chest, respectively. Now that it was bitterly cold and wet outside, Toothless didn't want to wear his gear unless they were going to be flying.

Now unburdened, he looked over at the far wall, and licked his lips. He didn't use any of their signs to ask her what he was obviously thinking, but he didn't need to. Most of the time, he got his point across without them.

"I'll bring you some of whatever's cooking," she promised, and stepped through the somewhat large door set into the wall-

Emerging into her own room, which had been suitably modified to accommodate such a door, and occasionally a large reptile walking through. _That_ had been a tough sell, but after she and Toothless had spent two days ferrying her mother and father home to Berk, they must have felt they owed her enough to actually consider her request. This way, she did not have to go through the rest of the house to get to Toothless, and in the event of an emergency was literally a single door away from where he slept.

Him going into the house was not part of the plan. But she had ensured the door was just large enough for him to squeeze through, and as the rest of their house was sparse and open, he could come in if he wanted. He did not often venture past Astrid's room, but it was possible.

Astrid left the door between her room and his open, knowing that his body heat would more than offset any drafts from the new room. She took off her helmet, laying it at the foot of her bed, and went into the main room of the hut.

Neither her mother nor her father was present, it seemed. She nodded politely to Helga, who was stirring something in a large pot. "Is Vanna home?"

"She's spending the day playing in the snow with the Ingerman girls," Helga explained, looking into her pot as if trying to find something within. By the smell, all she would find was stew.

"Sounds like fun." Astrid smiled, sitting down across from Helga and raising her hands to almost but not quite touch the stew pot, which was set by the fire. "It's not getting any warmer out there."

"No, it is not." Helga stood and retrieved two bowls from the small kitchen area of the room, handing both to Astrid and pulling up the ladle she had been using. "Everyone else has eaten, so feel free to take what's left. I'm going to be dumping the rest by the end of tonight."

That meant the stew, which was generally kept for several days, was nearing the end of its lifespan as safely edible. Astrid filled both bowls as much as possible, knowing that anything not eaten could not be saved. Their stews usually didn't last quite as long as they should, thanks to slightly lower-quality meat, but that was fine. Having Toothless meant they got to have as much fresh fish as they wanted, which more than made up for the butcher being one of the few people who still actively disliked them.

That brought Astrid's thoughts around to her reputation. She pondered that as she brought Toothless his bowl, and ate her own in her room.

Her reputation was a strange thing, now, and tied to how Berk had changed. Some people hated her for all of it, and others thanked her. Dragons roamed Berk, never intentionally doing harm, and people dealt with that in different ways. The older any given Viking was, it seemed, the more likely they were to resent the changes, while the younger portion of the population was more accepting.

The Ingerman twins, for instance, the ones Vanna was playing with, had taken a shine to the Zippleback that had once languished in the arena. It liked them too, and only a strict set of rules from their mother kept the three- or, depending on how one looked at it, four- of them grounded for the time being. In a few years, there would be at least two new riders.

Maybe more, eventually, but for now there was also a strange tension regarding riders. That was the result of most of Berk still hosting Windy Isle guests, and the knowledge that they would be leaving in the Spring. Nobody really knew how that was going to work, and most Berkians were leaning to the side of not showing the people of Windy Isle any more than necessary.

Astrid understood that. To most of Berk, Thunderguts _was _the Windy Isle tribe, though he was dead, and he had done a lot of damage with his scheming. Snotlout's family avidly denied his participation in said scheming, but even if one discounted that, a lot could be laid at his feet.

To the average Berkian, the current Windy Isle tribe was one bad leader away from being enemies, and she couldn't say that such an outlook was _wrong_. Nothing would happen until all of Thunderguts' aids convened on their island, but after that it was anyone's guess who the tribe's new Chief would be, and by extension what he would do. There was a general air of distrust toward everyone from the Windy Isle because of that uncertainty.

Astrid, while agreeing with the general sentiment, had no such feelings regarding Helga and Vanna. She knew them, and she knew the extent of Helga's treachery. Besides…

Helga and Vanna were the other reason her family had expanded and renovated their hut instead of just doing the bare minimum to repair the damage. There were two other small rooms abutting the main room of the hut now. In the Summer they might move out and have their own hut built, but for now Berk's newest immigrants were living with the Hoffersons. It wasn't entirely clear if they _would _move out, either; most Viking clans were large, sprawling families, and her parents were talking about offering to induct the two of them, as it would benefit everyone involved.

If that happened, Astrid would be okay with it. Having Helga and Vanna around made the hut feel more alive, even when not everyone was present.

The front door slammed, and judging by the lack of high-pitched voices, Astrid had to guess her mother or father was home, not Vanna. She emerged from her room once more, taking both bowls, equally empty now, back to the main room.

Her mother had just returned, it seemed, and was taking off her heavy coat. She smiled at Astrid, though her movement was stiffer and pained now. Her back had healed, but moving her arms was never going to be as easy as it had before. Asa didn't complain, but Astrid could tell it hurt a little. Their family had not escaped the attack on the nest wholly unscathed.

"Home early," Asa remarked, sitting down in one of the chairs pulled out from the table. "Going back tomorrow?"

"Bright and early," Astrid confirmed. "Or dark and early, given the weather." She hoped it wouldn't be snowing. The flight was bad enough without that.

"Things are well out there?" her mother continued. "They're all doing fine?"

Astrid could tell her mother still felt slightly guilty about getting a ride back to Berk when most of her peers were stuck there, but she really shouldn't. Most of the moderately injured willing to ride had been taken back by now. Life at the nest was hard enough for those in good health.

"Yes, all is well," Astrid confirmed. "Where's dad?"

"Out talking to the Elders," Asa said sourly, grimacing. "That should be over with soon, now."

Astrid shrugged, nonplussed. The Elders had eventually caught wind of the attempt at a marriage with the Windy Isle, and Sighvat had taken up the task of explaining that, a task that had stretched into and eventually gotten tangled up in all of the other things Thunderguts had done to weaken Berk. That investigation was finally winding down now, though it would not be over until the saboteurs who had killed Spitelout were tried in the Spring. The upside, at least to Astrid, was that her parents had sworn not to sign her into any more marriage contracts without getting the Chief's approval, which in turn meant they needed her approval, because she could get Stoick to disallow any contract she didn't like.

Basically, she had managed to take her own future firmly into her own hands. Her parents still hinted that she should get married eventually, but...

She had two real options. It would have to be another rider; they were the only families that would lose nothing in the process of making a tie with hers, and marrying off-island was no longer going to be allowed for her, which she was fine with. So Fishlegs or Tuffnut. Fishlegs did not appeal to her, and Tuffnut was a friend, nothing more. For now, anyway. If she ever felt differently, she could act on that, but for the time being, she was safe both in the knowledge that she would not be forced into anything, and that she had at least one not-terrible choice if she ever felt the need to change her situation.

But for the moment, all that mattered was that she would not be forced into anything. She was happy with that. Her parents...

Well, they had taken a while to come to terms with how things were playing out. There had been a few arguments over new plans to marry her out to some other tribe, more with her mother than her father, and over how she saw her future. She could not say they saw eye to eye even now. More that they understood she wasn't going to sacrifice any more for the sake of rebuilding a family name that was now more ambiguous than stained. The community provided by the Ingermans and Thorstons, who had that same ambiguous nature, was probably also a factor. They were not alone in being seen as something uncertain, different.

All of that was still in flux, too. The Chief might set things up better once he was able to return to Berk, something he staunchly refused to do by dragon. He had rejected the offer, saying that he needed to remain with his people, not fly off and abandon them. Whether or not he was personally opposed to riding dragons himself was less clear.

Maybe, when he got back, he would add legitimacy to what she and the other riders did, a visual reassurance to the rest of Berk that they were here to stay. Or maybe he would do nothing, as he had done before, and let them be... whatever they already were in any given villager's mind. It did not matter to Astrid, but it was still an open question.

Astrid went back to her room to get her helmet. She still needed to go and get the reports Stoick had requested, and if she had to go back outside, she'd do it with some protection for her face and neck.

Not that her hair did not offer protection. It was finally getting somewhat long, though it would be months more before she could braid it properly. She just preferred full protection against the cold.

Well, almost full protection. "I'm going for a walk," she announced, smiling at Toothless and conveying her general good mood. That was something she had begun to do more often. He was as open with his emotions as he could be; it was only fitting she be the same with him. The better they understood each other, the better they worked together. "Want to come?" Two gestures, follow and request. By now, she was sure he understood pretty much everything he said, but she still used the gestures. All else aside, they were still a sign of respect.

To her slight surprise, Toothless nodded and stood up, choosing to leave his warm resting place to accompany her into the village. They set out together, wading through the snow.

Dragons were around here, too. More than the nest, actually. Apparently, even Berk in deep Winter was preferable for a dragon. Nadders hopped from roof to roof, while the odd Nightmare lazed in alleyways. Terrors tumbled through the snow, apparently impervious to the cold, and Gronckles slept wherever they felt like sleeping, be that in some out-of-the-way corner or the middle of the road. There were even a few Zipplebacks walking in the distance, both heads keeping watch in opposite directions.

Tuffnut's Timberjack was the only uncommon dragon on Berk besides Toothless. There were so many other species Astrid knew of that had never shown up, though she could vaguely remember a few more exotic shapes among fleeting memories of her first trip to the nest. Where those dragons had gone was a mystery.

She only had one guess, and it was a bad one, if it was right. The Timberjack had come from the Windy Isle tribe. Their island might now be hosting rarer kinds of dragons, if it had before. Once the remainder of their tribe returned, armed with the general knowledge that training dragons was possible, along with Viking stubbornness...

She saw four paths forward. Either Windy Isle would learn, or they would not, and they would either make peace with Berk, or continue the hostilities their late Chief had started.

She was fine with any combination of those things. If it was peace, with the dragons or not, then all was well. If it was war, then she and Toothless would teach them to fear Berk, and to continue to fear the Night Fury's roar and purplish-blue blast. That was the way of things. She would defend her home if any other tribe decided they made a good target, and Toothless would follow. He protected what she did.

That was all in the distant future, though. Right now, Astrid was happy, even though things were far from perfect in many ways. She was of an uncertain, low status, and she was not a dedicated warrior. Her life now would seem a nightmare to her past self.

But she had Toothless. She had her family, seeing totally eye-to-eye or not, and a larger family than she had planned on ever having. She was still protecting Berk, and her own interests. There were others like her, and they followed her lead without her even trying to assert control.

Friends, family, purpose. This was her place.

She looked down at Toothless, walking alongside her, serious and calm. Was he content? Yes.

Would he have been happier if all was the same, but Hiccup had lived? Probably. She was not first and foremost in his mind, and never would be. But that did not bother her. She was first now, and would be until she died. If he outlived her, maybe he would find another rider to work with. She would not begrudge someone else the chance to know the dragon she guessed had been Hiccup's best friend for a time, and was now hers. She had taken up the mantle when Hiccup passed, and she could only hope someone else would do the same for her if the need arose.

If she had her way, though, they'd go out in a blaze of glory in some distant future battle, together, doing what was right. Somehow, she knew there would be many more battles to come, no matter what path the future took. She could think of no better place to be when they arrived, no better home to protect, and no better partner to have at her side.

_**Author's Note:**_** So ends the first full book I've ever written with no intention of a sequel (and incredibly enough, the final chapter happens to fall exactly on my birthday). You can clearly see me leaving it open, specifically with the ambiguity about Windy Isle's future intentions and possible resources (not to mention several open possibilities for character development and side-plots among the population of Berk), but as of now, it's only barely on my radar, something I did to leave myself an in, just in case. There are plot threads hanging out, but no compelling whole to tie them into, at least not compared to the other projects that demand my time. If I find that compelling reason we might revisit this world. No promises on that one.**

**Also, in case anyone is wondering what's next, if not a sequel: I'm undecided. On the one hand, there's the parallel-inspired story to this one, **_**Unwilling Flame**_**, and on the other there's the shorter story I **_**really **_**need to buckle down and write, **_**Truth or Legend**_**. The former might be ready to begin posting soon, but I might go back through and rewrite it, and it would only be at all close to ready if I decided to cut it **_**back **_**into two books, while the latter just needs to be written…**

**Eh, we'll see. I'm probably going to knuckle down and push out a decent backlog of UotD and finish LA before I do anything else. But something new and unrelated to any of my previous stories **_**is **_**coming relatively soon, of that you can be sure.**


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